Suitor
by ookami123
Summary: As governess and chaperone to the most sought after debutante in London, Hitomi Kanzaki has had a… somewhat stressful season. But whilst protecting her charge from the perils of seduction, can she truly protect herself from one rogue’s dark promise? VH
1. Chapter 1

**Disclaimer: Don't own it. **

**A/N: Aaah, I can't believe I'm doing this _again. _I know, I'm a massive liar - I promised you _Lex Legis _ch 3 and I haven't got it to you yet, but I honestly _am _trying my hardest to do so, believe me.**

** Anyway, I know I'm foolish for even considering another AU, but hey, HERE I AM. So yea, this is the historical romance I was talking about in the A/N intro to _Straight Towards the Sun_. It's a good'n, especially since it's finally set in London (I love my country.), and I can use old school phrases like "Wool-gathering" without being laughed at. SCORE. **

**But...yea, I don't expect the 1830's to be everyone's cup of tea. As usual, I'm not massively pleased as to how it turned out - but I don't have the energy to care. HA. **

**Right. So. Good luck with this one. **

** Enjoy! **

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**- **

One day.

The thought passed through her head again, as blithely and dispassionately as it had done so many times before.

Mindless, unintelligible chatter grated on her ears. It was the same as it always was at this point in the evening, ranging generally from unpleasant snippets of last week's gossip, to the practiced chuckle of a bored wife searching unsubtly for an equally bored lover, and even, if one was near enough, to the odd whisper of debauchery from a rake to a poor, unsuspecting debutante.

From where she stood, by the wall, adjacent to the crowded dance floor, she could see them all, draped in their expensive silks, adorned in their acres of frills and pointless lace; the same people, party after party, dinner after dinner, who ignored her. Day after day.

So she, she in her brown muslin, high necked gown, she who had never danced with a man, she who had never known what it was to _enjoy _a party, had learned to simply tell herself that one day, somebody would realise she was standing there. Somebody would look at her. Somebody would notice.

_One day. _

Hitomi sighed heavily as she spotted Merle across the room, talking rather too genially with an attractively tall, blonde-haired man her uninterested memory could not recall. She supposed he must be an earl or duke's heir, considering the vivacious young debutante had bothered to even consider him a suitable match. For a mere slip of a girl at eighteen years, Merle Rogers had an air of confidence that was, frankly, incomprehensible. Since her come-out the previous month, suitors had just seemed to …flock to her, daily, attempting to win her affections in various shallow and unadventurous manners; bunches of bright, exotic, expensive flowers were sent to the house almost twice a day, ridiculous penned proclamations of love stuck haphazardly between the blooms, spilling out into the hall from the parlour because of their sheer number. Naturally, these would often be accompanied by countless boxes of pearls and jewels and other pointlessly high-priced baubles.

However, Merle cared for none of these, and would often complain of how she yearned for men to be "far more daring", a worrying prospect indeed to Hitomi who, as her governess and chaperone, would undoubtedly not approve of whatever _that _meant.

Nonetheless, the various suitors were in no way deterred when the lady cast their attempts off as mere trifles, however many times she would casually do so inside of a week. But it was no mystery to Hitomi why the majority of London's male population were pining for her so. It was true, Merle's dowry would be…_ considerable_, and yet it was certainly not "considerable" enough to be fought over. So, she had come to the conclusion that it was the girl's effervescent personality and, undoubtedly, the beautiful face and perfectly petite figure whixh drew men to her in such a fashion. All that fiery hair was surely just the icing on an absolutely flawless cake, as it were, even if it was supposedly out of fashion.

Hitomi's hands strayed errantly to her own, cropped locks at this point, and she winced as she remembered just how short her style was now. Merle had, of course, expressed remorse for the incident, but that did not in any way detract from the fact she was a fairly awful coiffeuse. Indeed, the girl had only meant to cut a knotted ribbon from Hitomi's hair, and yet had somehow ended up cropping an enormous chunk from the back and side. The only solution had been to even everything out, thus resulting in the short tresses she was curling lightly around her finger as she recalled the occasion now. Honestly, she thought the style almost suited her in an odd sort of way, but was dismayed to find that she simply always looked ruffled, tufts of hair defiantly sticking up as they would first thing in the morning.

"Dear Hitomi, surely you are not wool-gathering again!"

Merle's soprano reached her ears before she had even realised the girl was standing barely a metre away.

"M-My Lady!" Hitomi blinked rapidly, clasping her hands in front of her, "Why, I was merely—"

"Oh _do _try to enjoy yourself, Hitomi." Merle touched her forearm gently, "There are such _lovely_ people here, you really _must_ socialise!"

Hitomi feigned a smile as she nodded, "I will... _try_, my Lady."

Flashing a kind expression, yet one brimming with pity, Merle gave her arm a squeeze before turning to the dance floor, obviously planning to reconvene with the blonde man she'd been flirting with earlier.

Hitomi watched the girl recede into the crush before frowning slightly. Merle would never understand that people of Hitomi's status could not just "socialise" with the rest of the _ton _as if it were normal, as if it were proper. Chaperones such as herself were destined to either stand in a corner, or sit with the widows and spinsters, casually protecting their charges from fortune hunters, witless dandies and, most importantly, notorious London rakes. If she were to walk up to any man at this party, they would surely assume she was a maid or just… well, perhaps they wouldn't even notice her.

Yes, that was the more likely outcome.

Perhaps it was time to accept the fact she would probably sit with the spinsters forever.

And perhaps the acknowledgement was a sign that, at six and twenty, she was fast approaching spinsterhood herself.

You see, Hitomi had never been presented; she had never been a debutante. She had started work as Merle's governess at eighteen, and had never looked back since. Of course, she often wondered if she would have been married by this point, had she attended the soirées and dinners all those years ago (when her hair had reached the middle of her back as opposed to the middle of her neck), but she didn't class those ideas as regrets. No, she merely thought of them as… well, thoughts; thoughts of what might have been, had she been born under a different star. Into a different life.

Her fingers reached up to her neck, gliding gently over the pendant resting over her heart. Its weight lay there heavily, a constant reminder of her mother. Of her sins.

She couldn't even remember why she still chose to wear the curiously red stone.

A peculiar attachment indeed.

The music started. A waltz.

Hitomi shook away her feelings, pushing them behind the familiar façade of nonchalance once again, and focused on searching for Merle. However, after several seconds of attempting to do so, it became clear that the elusive girl was nowhere to be seen. Frowning, she took a few steps toward the dance floor. Yet still, after peering subtly round passing, waltzing bodies, she could not locate her charge.

Beginning to worry at this point, she walked quickly to the corridor and looked calmly from one end to the other. Nothing. She turned on her heel and examined the room for a third time. Nothing.

Damn.

Consequently burdened with several, unhelpful thoughts of the debutante locked in a rather compromising situation, Hitomi quickened her pace as she made a panicked circuit of the room.

And she was just about to make another when she saw the door leading to the garden close quickly; a door that had most definitely been locked a few moments before.

She walked briskly to it, pushing none-too gently past those in her way, anxious to save what virtue Merle had left before she ended up losing it all to a stranger; anxious to not lose her job amongst other things.

Using her weight against the door to open it quickly, she rushed out onto the terrace.

…

The completely empty, silent terrace.

"Damn!" The curse left her lips of its own accord, "That little—!"

She sighed exasperatedly before turning her head this way and that, the crease between her brows growing more severe as the night air stung her naked cheeks.

Closing the door, she took a few steps forward. The sound of the string quartet wafted lazily through the open windows, filling the air with a sort of mushy richness that only served to aggravate her further. Crossing her arms moodily, she approached the stone steps leading down onto the freshly trimmed lawn.

"I swear to God, that girl is in for a scolding," she muttered darkly, descending onto the grass as she shivered.

She glanced left and then right as she reached the bottom, following the line of the balustrade as far as she could see. Her eyes rolled as they met with only empty, fresh smelling air.

"Damn." She swore again, "Damn, damn, damn!"

The aggravated chaperone leant forward ungracefully in an attempt to peer round the corner of the high wall. It seemed too far to walk on the dewy grass; and she may not have been trying to impress anyone, but a soggy hem was something even she abhorred. She tutted loudly as the action proved utterly pointless. After looking round fruitlessly for any sign of the troublesome girl in some last, desperate hope, she sighed heavily again.

A soggy hem it would have to be.

Uttering a noise of absolute detestation, Hitomi picked up her skirts and proceeded to strut, rather like a cat, (so as not to soak her very best boots) along the lawn, following the high wall the terrace created for several seconds before she reached the corner.

And then she froze.

Because another heavy sigh, and not one of her own, had just reached her perking ears.

_Aha! Caught in the act!_

Choosing swiftly not to wait for any further… sound effects, she steeled herself for a direct confrontation with her disobedient charge. And… well, whoever else she was with.

She swallowed before rounding the angle rapidly.

Putting on a most austere tone, her eyes fixed on the soil at her feet to avoid any further embarrassment, lest she find them… busy.

"I should hope you will be grateful I have chosen _not _to mention this to your mother—"

But it was at this point she realised the shoes she was staring at determinedly were not Merle's delicate silk pumps.

No.

In fact, they were not a woman's shoes at all.

Hitomi's eyes widened.

Ah.

"I shouldn't think my mother would be particularly interested, but I am grateful all the same."

The low, amused timbre settled languidly in the empty air.

Uttering a mental curse that would have made a Brixton whore wince, Hitomi counted to three.

And looked up.

Into deep, rich, claret. Into endless depths of lusciously dark chocolate; into shadow and temptation.

Into the eyes of sin itself.

Her breath hitched uncomfortably, and it rather felt as if her heart had stopped.

"F-Forgive me sir," Her eyes dropped to the grass once more, retreating as if scalded, "I assumed you were… somebody else."

"Indeed." The voice, now somewhat intrigued, reached her ears again.

But it appeared not to wish for any further conversation.

"I will... leave you now." Hitomi conceded after an awkward moment, and curtsied politely, "My sincere apologies for interrupting—"

"Out of interest, precisely who is it you are looking for?"

Hitomi blinked in surprise.

Her gaze remained trained on the lawn.

"Why, that would be my charge, Sir. Now if you'll excuse me—"

"Is there a reason your eyes are so earnestly searching the soil?" He interrupted without invitation, "Might your charge be located there? Or is it my horrendous features that offend you so?"

"Oh no, my Lord." She promptly looked up again, grateful when she saw he was no longer looking at her, but out towards the darkness of the vast gardens, "I simply… that is, I…" Blushing, she hesitated as her eyes feasted on his chiselled profile.

Ebony hair that was a touch too long, a whisper too wild perhaps, fell slightly over his eyes, giving him the presence of some sort of… dashing pirate, and perfectly wicked, sensual lips were wrapped around some sort of… smoking… stick, that looked rather like a malnourished cigar. Hitomi watched as he leant casually back against the high wall and removed it, exhaling a cloud of smoke as a roguish smile tilted one corner of that sinful mouth.

He turned to her then, catching her hopeless stare.

"Tell me, who is this rebellious charge of yours?"

Hitomi blinked as her heart seemed to stop beating again. The stranger's eyes gleamed in the yellow light that bathed them from the windows above.

She clasped her hands in front of her.

"I believe that is none of your business, my Lord." She said succinctly, straightening, ignoring the flicker of amusement that passed over his sharp features.

"Well then what is _your_ name?" He asked after regarding her silently for a long moment, his eyes languidly studying her flushed face.

"Well…" Hitomi raised her eyebrows slightly in surprise, "I don't believe that is any of your business either."

One dark, ebony brow lifted opposite her.

"Truly?" The stranger mocked lightly, his smile lop-sided.

"Of course." Came her defence, "It would be highly improper, my Lord."

He stared at her again, smirking; she hated to admit that it thrilled her.

"You _are _an interesting chit, aren't you." The man said quietly, more to himself than to her, she expected.

"I am no chit, my Lord."

The sound of his soft, understated chuckle made her mouth pop open.

"Indeed." He conceded, bringing the smoking stick to his smiling lips once more and breathing with it. The small action seemed to fascinate her; she stared as he appeared to relish drinking the fumes.

"Well," He exhaled after a moment, "It seems I am entirely in the wrong this evening." He glanced at her subtly, finding her absorption in the habitual task quite charming.

Unfortunately, Hitomi did not notice, and continued to regard him in absolute enthralment.

"… Might I be right in thinking you have never seen a gentleman smoke before?" He laughed gently again.

Hitomi blinked violently as she was woken from her semi-reverie.

"I-I…" She shook her head in an attempt to clear it. Of _course_ she had seen men smoke before, the problem was simply that… it had never looked so positively sinful to her. The small brown stick seemed to fit so elegantly between his fingers, she rather thought it had been made especially for him; to tempt, to burn.

Hitomi gestured to it, "I am indeed familiar with the act of smoking, my Lord, but simply not with… such a peculiar looking—"

"Cigarette." He finished for her, holding it closer to her so she could regard it, "I developed a taste for them during my time in America. Far simpler than cigars; I've been importing them over here ever since I returned."

"I see…" She said, shortly before he took it from her view and stubbed it out on the wall next to them.

"Terrible habit." He smiled sheepishly as it sizzled out, dropping to the grass, "I only indulge when absolutely necessary."

Hitomi tilted her head in interest, unaware of what possessed her to continue, "And pray tell, what made such a _terrible habit_ such a necessity this evening, my Lord?"

To her immense surprise, the stranger chose this moment to lean in rather too close to her, his grin surpassing wickedness.

"I do believe," his voice, barely more than a whisper, caressed her senses, "…that is none of your business, my dear Lady."

Her lips parted at his gentle mockery.

"I--"

And then:

"Oh, my Lord, we should not!"

Hitomi whirled in the direction of the familiar soprano. Perfectly practiced, delightful giggles filtered down to them from the terrace, as well as the low, satisfied murmur of a particularly fortunate gentleman.

"Oh!" Hitomi turned immediately, rounding the corner in under a second, "That girl—"

And she was just approaching the steps leading up from grass when a strong arm settled round her waist, tugging her back with incontestable yet gentle force.

"What on earth—!"

The roguish stranger silenced her by laying a long finger over her outraged lips as he pushed her softly against the wall, caging her with his large, lithe body. And she would have been frightened, had the man's eyes been fixed on her and not on the grass beside them, narrowed as if intent on catching every murmur of the conversation above.

"Sir," She whispered violently, attempting to catch his eye, "if you would kindly—"

He looked at her and shook his head, silently forming the word "sh" as his finger remained on her lips.

"You don't appear to understand, that girl is my—"

"Hush!" He ordered, craning his head in an attempt to see the couple on the terrace. The quiet voices filtered down once more.

"…again. We could do it together, my dear." A light yet resonant baritone attempted persuasion, "You have beauty enough to entice him, and when you do…" Fairly menacing laughter followed, "We can…"

Words trailed off into private whispers. The stranger frowned.

Hitomi scowled.

"Sir, if you do not unhand me at once, I swear—"

"You do swear an awful lot for a woman, don't you." He cut her off moodily as he caught her eye again.

"I _beg_ your pardon?" She asked, appalled.

The stranger's mouth quirked slightly at a corner, "The number of times you managed the word "damn" was frankly admirable, my genteel lady."

She blushed as she recalled her thoughtless cursing upon finding the terrace empty.

"Now stay quiet, I do believe I know who they are discussing." He removed his finger from her mouth, and yet she found the warmth of it remained. She licked her lips greedily.

And didn't notice when his gaze darted to them briefly.

She swallowed, "I was not aware they were _discussing_ anything; I assumed they were simply—"

He silenced her with a sharp glare as the voices became audible again.

"… seeing as he _is _handsome; marvellously so." Merle's voice sang out, "I should not think I will mind his courting terribly." She giggled.

Hitomi watched the stranger's lips quirk once more in what looked like very male satisfaction.

A man's footsteps sounded from above.

"Are you _trying _to make me jealous, love?" Came the seductive, light baritone for a second time, "Because if so, you are succeeding."

Merle's delighted squeal sounded out in the night, and Hitomi assumed that the girl's…friend had just caught her in his arms.

"Oh…"

The telltale sounds of lips meeting in barely contained passion wafted down shortly afterwards to where she stood, still trapped between the now brooding stranger's body and the wall below the balustrade.

"I must stop this!" She murmured stressfully, reaching down to lift her skirts in preparation for a swift confrontation.

However two large, warm hands took her own before they could gain purchase on the plain fabric, and lifted them above her head, holding her absolutely immobile.

"Unhand me at once, Sir!" She whispered vehemently as the stranger leaned forward, holding her in place with the weight of his body.

Hitomi found she could not quite breathe as his face neared her own.

"Wait." He mouthed, his eyes intense as they fixed on hers.

Her heart stopped again.

She could smell his cologne, the starch from his shirt; a musk that must have belonged to him alone. Mixed with the scent of the grass and the trees around them, it was quite unique; enticement itself.

She caught herself softening to him.

"Please…" She begged, quite desperate for freedom now, her breath coming in soft pants for reasons she was not entirely sure of.

But the dark rogue merely leaned in further, studying her anxious features in bemusement, "Darling, if you don't stop talking I'll have to silence you myself."

Ignoring the endearment (yet blushing all the same), she struggled again, "Well I should think you will be very sorry for it!"

She stilled when he flashed that mischievous smile again.

"I shouldn't think so."

Her breath hitched when his lips moved gently to cover her own. She swallowed a mewl of protest as that wicked mouth passed over hers, warm and soft, gently caressing, slowly teasing her senses with its sinful knowledge.

But she had no clue what to do; she felt helpless as his hands trailed down from her own, stroking over her bare wrists, making her shiver as they made a slow, tantalising journey to her waist, where they stayed as he continued to manipulate her lips to move with his own.

And she didn't know how or when she started, but she began to learn this peculiar dance, she began to relish the salt that lingered on his mouth, the sighs he made as he held her closer, as she brought her hands to his chest to feel the heartbeat under layers of cloth.

She lost herself in those few moments, never wanting to resurface from the luscious, indulgent sensation of sharing something so intimate with a man. And a stranger at that.

But as if the heavens had read her clouded mind, the moment ended all too soon.

"My dearest, let's return; that unbearable chaperone of yours is probably searching the house for you." The voice of Merle's partner pierced the mood like a knife, "Precise instructions will have to wait until Lady Aston's dinner tomorrow, I'm afraid."

Hitomi moved back quickly from the heady kiss, her lips parting from the stranger's softly, her eyes catching his own, hooded ones.

She shivered at their penetrating darkness.

And at the sound of the door above opening and closing, she let out a breath she had not been aware of holding.

They stared at each other for a long moment before she had the common sense to try to get away.

"I-I… I must go." She removed her hands from his chest, from his warmth, and looked at the grass again.

However he caught one, holding it fast, forcing her to look up into his eyes.

"What's your name, chick?" He asked quickly, his voice low, husky.

Hitomi swallowed.

"The unbearable chaperone." She snatched her hand out of his grasp as his eyes widened in comprehension, "If you'll excuse me."

She pushed past the arm that blocked her path to the stairs, not looking back as the stranger said something quietly to himself. It sounded like a curse.

Praying to God she did not look as tumbled as she felt, she ran onto the terrace and went swiftly through the door. Bless her invisibility to the _ton _at times like these; what would she do if they actually _noticed _her looking so flustered.

Merle's fiery coiffure was quite visible in the crowd, even without having to search for it, and Hitomi approached her at a rapid pace, grabbing her hand without warning as she went past, heading towards the door.

Sputtering, Merle demanded an explanation, "Hitomi! What is the meaning of this—"

"We are returning home immediately, and you should not need an explanation as to why."

"But I was in the middle of a conversation—!"

"I don't care, Merle!" Hitomi spun to her as they approached the front door, nodding at the awkwardly placed footman to collect their shawls, "Your behaviour tonight has been ludicrous, irresponsible—"

"What on _earth _are you talking about?!" Merle snatched the shawl from the footman, who backed away hurriedly towards Hitomi, "I've been exchanging pleasantries all night with potential suitors!"

"Indeed!" Hitomi snatched her own shawl from the poor, unsuspecting man, "With one in particular who—" she stopped herself, pursing her lips irritably. It seemed she couldn't explain what she'd heard without admitting to a little… tryst of her own. And that would most certainly _not_ be a helpful confession. "You should _know_ what I'm talking about, young Lady."

The "you should know without me saying" tact usually worked.

However it appeared to backfire rather unpleasantly this time.

Merle tugged her shawl on violently, "Do not presume to label me so 'young', madam! I'll have you know that many of the _ton _consider me to be mature beyond my years!"

Wrenching on her own wrap, Hitomi straightened as the door was opened for them.

"I have eaten _cheeses _that were more mature than you, Merle!" She gestured for her charge to exit first, "Now let us speak no more of it!"

The debutante harrumphed as she moved to go past her, but stopped before stepping out into the night. She turned to Hitomi, a scowl implanted uncharacteristically in her girlish features.

"Just because you are a _spinster_, does not mean that others must be doomed to the same fate!"

And with that, she stalked moodily towards the carriage, leaving her chaperone speechless at the door, staring at the place where her head had just been.

But after a moment, and perhaps a slightly longer moment than usual, Hitomi merely swallowed.

Took a breath.

And followed, wincing at the slam of the door (the abused footman no doubt) behind her.

Unaware that a certain dark-haired stranger had heard every word.

Unaware that he had seen the pain so obvious in her glassy, tired eyes.

-

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**Right.**

**Well.**

**What did you think? **

**Be gentle, readers. **

**Toodles!**


	2. Chapter 2

**A/N: Eyyyy, y'alright guys? I know, I know, I've been away for bloody ages, and I apologise for just not updating...well, anything - BUT, I've been disgustingly stressed and will be for the next month or so. However, after all of my exams go ridiculously well (-- this is a lie), I will definitely, definitely be updating erm..._quite _regularly I suppose. **

**Anyway, chapter two! I'm feeling the need to celebrate its completion with a cup of tea, however, the kettle is too far away and it's just far too English to explain why I don't like our new teabags. (Alas, we've run out of PG Tips, for whoever's interested.)  
Teabags aside, I hope people are still OK with this storyline, since I bloody love it firstly, and secondly, it's probably the most fun I've had writing a story - and so educational too! (I just love trips to _Wikipedia_, don't you? Bet you didn't know I was researching things like "Astronomy 1800s" and "Viscounts" to write this chapter... Yea, I know i'm cool, you don't have to tell me twice.)**

**So yea, sorry about the rant - Tips for chapter 2:**

**Tip one! - Viscount is pronounced "Vye-count". It's like saying "Bye count!" but don't say it like that because that's not a word, nor is it a real phrase. o0  
**

**Tip two! - Remember, this is a VH fic, m'dears. Don't start getting all confused on me now.**

**Tip three! - _Adomwood _is, quite clearly, not a real place, but anyway, Van's Daddy-o is the Earl of it and I was trying to link the whole "Adom" thing in with the film.  
Failure? Perhaps.**

**Gosh this is long - apologies. ENJOY! **

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o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o

"Poppycock!"

A shrill, practically operatic voice sang out above the string quartet, causing a few nearby gentlemen to turn briefly as they sauntered past. Needless to say, after doing so, they showed no further interest in the overly-large widow's exclamation.

The chubby woman fanned herself rather exaggeratedly as Hitomi hastily edged her chair closer.

"Liddy, you must _swear _to me you will not tell a soul!" She urged, her voice lowering to a violent whisper, "And it is not poppycock, I can tell you."

Overcoming her surprise fairly rapidly, Liddy, or the Widow Damask as she was known to the _ton_, raised one greying, amused eyebrow.

"My dear girl, I doubt there is a soul here who knows who you are—"

"That may be true," Hitomi interrupted, scanning those around them briefly before turning back to her trusted, if untactful, confidant, "But there are those who may know who _he _is."

Liddy guffawed, "Dear child, did you not literally just reveal to me that you _yourself _had not an inkling? Even when he kissed y—"

"Hush, Liddy—"

"Oh poppycock!" The widow repeated defiantly, "Am I allowed no fun in my old age?!"

"Certainly not," Hitomi half-smiled, "It is not becoming for a widow to _actually _be merry."

Liddy chuckled thoughtfully, "Indeed."

Their heads were drawn to the dance-floor as the waltz began to play, tracking their charges respectively amongst the array of sausage curls and puff sleeves. Hitomi noticed Merle at once, dancing with a rather anxious looking young man, no more than three and twenty at most. She saw the debutante smile sweetly at him, artificially of course, as they twirled masterfully between the other couples, and almost chuckled when she noticed the unsuspecting man's brow beaded with sweat.

However, when she also took note of how Merle's eyes appeared to be darting around the room, as if to subtly search faces and scan corners, her fond smile vanished, and was swiftly replaced by an all too familiar frown. It had taken the entirety of the previous fortnight for the debutante to repent and indeed apologise for what she'd unwittingly done right under Hitomi's nose at the last party, and, fool that she was, Hitomi had believed the promise she'd made:

"_I am so very sorry, Hitomi. I am so naïve…I…Believe me when I say that I will never go near that wretched man again!"_

Needless to say, at this very moment, Hitomi very much doubted the honesty of the affirmation.

"My dear, you look positively mystified," Liddy interjected, fanning herself gently, "Do tell."

Hitomi turned to her, fake smile already in position, "Oh, it is nothing, Liddy." Her eyes darted to the fan, currently clasped in her friend's chubby fingers, "Just the heat getting to me."

The widow nodded in sympathy before continuing to fan herself in a more overstated fashion.

"Oh my _life_, it is warm for April!" She proclaimed melodramatically.

The truth of the matter was that it actually _was _warm for April. And the feather in the rather sweat-dampened cap as it were, was that this particular evening, the heavens had decided to open yet again, causing a practically tropical, humid climate to fall across London and, more importantly, inside the ballroom they were currently sitting in. The result of this catastrophe, was that none of the doors leading onto the terrace could be opened due to the pouring rain, though they were, unfortunately, the only possible source of any sort of breeze. So, in light of this, the hostess had simply ordered bucketfuls of iced lemonade to be available to guests, and then had overseen herself that fans were distributed to every lady shortly afterwards. A few, ill-fated footmen had actually been placed along the walls with fans of their own, in an effort to cool every poor, sweating soul that strolled ungratefully past.

Liddy beckoned one over with a practiced flick of the hand. The young man complied warily.

"Do be a little more vigorous with that fan, my dear boy," She glanced at Hitomi, her mouth twitching in a knowing smile as she murmured, "Every woman is appreciative of a little…_vigour _in a man, is she not?"

Hitomi opened her mouth in sheepish horror before glancing up at the footman, who appeared to be reddening and more than a little confused. Poor boy.

"And move closer, man!" The widow ordered, turning back to him, "Or else I am sure I will melt in this _dreadful _heat wave."

The footman swallowed, "Yes, milady", and began fanning at an increased rate.

Hitomi rolled her eyes, smiling as she trained her gaze back to the dance floor.

As the waltz came to an end, she looked for Merle amongst the crush, and her thoughts were yet again drawn to whether the two weeks of "house arrest" had actually done the chit any good. She had originally hoped that depriving the debutante of parties and dinners and, more importantly, suitors, would have given her time to calm down, perhaps rethink her strategies for taking a husband. However, judging by the shifty behaviour she had witnessed just minutes beforehand, she was no longer so sure of such redemption taking place.

In fact, it had probably only served to embitter the girl.

Her eyes widened.

"My dear, where has your charge got to? I cannot see that ghastly hair of hers anywhere."

Swallowing, Hitomi prepared for the inevitable clench in her gut.

Because she had literally just been thinking exactly the same thing.

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Forty minutes.

Forty minutes she had been searching, and every one of those minutes had been positively brimming with stomach-wrenching anxiety.

Hitomi had examined practically every room in the vast London townhouse; the kitchen (twice), several bedrooms and even the unused nursery had been inspected (all to the absolute horror of surrounding footmen, of course), and none of them had yielded any sort of result. Honestly, she was beginning to tire of the immature game Merle seemed intent on playing; her charge associating with some brainless heir or whoever it was whose bed she was so ardent to warm was technically none of her business…

However that did not mean she was willing to just sit back and let Merle rid herself of her virtue in one fell swoop.

Oh no, it most certainly did not.

She descended the stairs for the third time that evening, and after scanning the ballroom once more whilst passing the large, ornate archway, she stalked down the hallway to the final room she had yet to search.

From what she could decipher from its outward appearance, its door appeared to be that of some sort of study or library, however she could not tell exactly what lay within. She was quite certain though, of _who _lay within, since there was absolutely nowhere else they could have run to.

This time she _would _catch Merle, and hopefully _with _the man she intended to box round the ears.

She pushed open the door without knocking.

"A_ha_— oh _damn_…"

It seemed that, yet again, she had found herself in a completely empty space, devoid of Merle, an unintelligent heir to a fortune, or any other vaguely human being.

She walked into the vast area, closing the door behind her as her eyes adjusted to the slightly darkened surroundings.

An unnecessary fire blazed in the hearth behind a large, intimidating desk covered in letters and papers, and it seemed she had been correct in guessing the room's use. It was both a study and a library apparently, since its walls consisted of rows upon rows of various tomes of this, that and the other, some collecting dust and others practically falling apart through overuse. She assumed that whoever used this room must be learned, or at least well read.

At this point, she searched her mind for the name of the party's hostess, in hopes she would recall the mention of any husband or heir that may be an academic, or perhaps just very interested in literature.

Lady Funnel, was it? Fonnelle? Fennel…something foreign-sounding like that.

Merle had seemed especially eager to attend this particular soirée, she recalled. In fact, now she thought about it, Hitomi remembered the debutante going on about someone in particular who she was desperate to meet (and apparently "ensnare") this evening, and she hadn't been talking about her infamous "friend" either (otherwise known as the blonde gentleman). No…she had said something… something about a Viscount?

Hitomi took a few steps toward a particularly worn looking bookcase before coming to an abrupt halt.

Fanel. That was the name of the hostess.

Her eyes widened.

Oh good _Lord_.

Merle expected to _ensnare_ the Viscount Fanel?!

Eldest living son to the Earl of Adomwood, heir to a vast sum of money no doubt and…and one of the more well-known rogues in this part of the country, or indeed any part…

By God, that girl was naïve to think she even had a chance.

And for the _life_ of her, Hitomi had absolutely no idea why they had even been _invited _to this party.

Surely news of Merle's "charms" had not reached the Viscount, who must be ten years her senior at the very least…

Surely.

Or perhaps his mother had…

Shaking her head in utter bewilderment, Hitomi reached out toward the bookcase, skimming her fingers over the cracked spines she longed to hold in her hands, to immerse herself in. She was sure that whoever the room belonged to must do so on a regular basis.

And who, in fact, did it belong to?

The Earl?

Possibly, although it was well-known fact that he seldom came to London, due to his poor health. Indeed, he was certainly not present this evening.

So that left the Viscount.

But Hitomi was sure such a rich and powerful man would have better things to do than read.

Chase women, perhaps?

Either way, she was impressed with their collection. As her eyes took in the titles on every shelf, she became more and more jealous, more and more anxious just to open one and soak in words she had never read.

She bit her lip as her gaze was drawn to a particularly well-thumbed tome, out of line with the rest, obviously due to a recent re-reading. Crooking her neck to read the title, she squinted, mouthing the bold letters.

"G-A-E-A…"

She straightened, "Gaea?"

And she didn't know what possessed her to reach out for it, to remove it from its resting place and feast her eyes on its bound cover…but somehow she just…let herself.

She swallowed, glancing at the door briefly, wondering if she should just put the book down, leave the stifling heat of the room and continue her search for Merle in vain.

Yet her heart screamed "No".

_Let me have this one comfort._

Taking a deep breath, she banished all thoughts of the troublesome debutante as she turned to the front page, her fingers delicate and secretive, as though temptation would not see how she fell to its seduction.

"Gaea," She read aloud once more as she reached the title, her eyes feasting on the page, "A novel of the stars."

She smiled, intrigued to discover who had written such mysterious words.

And yet, when she looked for the author, the only script she found consisted of two, small letters at the base of the page.

_F.F._

How mysterious indeed!

Why would someone do such a thing?

Frowning, her fingers lifted in preparation to turn the page and find out.

…

But that was when she heard someone start to open the door.

Cursing mentally, and without a second to even consider what she was going to say to whomever was poised to enter, she rested the book haphazardly on the edge of the shelf and practically leapt into the centre of the room, so as to appear utterly innocent. Nevertheless, she was absolutely prepared for another scolding from a displeased footman.

What she was certainly _not _prepared for however, was the man who actually entered.

She froze as he came into view, unmoving when his dark gaze settled, surprised, on her own. Something passed over his defined features briefly.

"The unbearable chaperone," He murmured, his voice low and even, his eyes dancing in the firelight, "May I ask why you're in here?"

Hitomi swallowed as she took in the figure he cut in dark, superbly fitted evening clothes. His ebony hair was still absolutely untamed, still pirate-like and charming as the half smile he was showing her at that very moment; his eyes were still mesmerisingly deep, their richness languid and sensuous as she watched them drift over her face and outline.

How long had it been since she'd seen him?

A fortnight?

And yet she couldn't stop her gaze from feasting on the way he held himself, the way he moved…

Somehow she found her voice.

"I-I might ask you precisely the same question." She retorted, more coolly than she thought possible, considering the sudden racing of her heart.

The rogue's smile widened after a moment, "Unfortunately I cannot tell you my reasons, chick. But I am still rather interested in yours."

The governess straightened up, confidence returning at an alarming rate.

"I am not a 'chick', Sir, and I would rather you not pry into my business when you seem so secretive of your own." She rested her hands on her hips, defiantly.

Taking a few steps forward, the amused half-stranger closed the door behind him, much to Hitomi's dismay.

"Not a chit, not a chick…" He feigned confusion, his smile pure wickedness, "Tell me, sweetheart, how is it you wish to be addressed by a man?"

Hitomi blinked at his astonishingly good memory, as well as his audacity, "W-Well, certainly I do not approve of 'sweetheart'."

"Truly?" The dark-haired rogue approached her, stalked her, a panther, tuned remarkably to the atmosphere of the room. It was strange… Hitomi found he quite belonged in this darkened, almost secretive place.

"Truly, Sir. Now if you'll excuse me—" She made an effort to walk past him.

"Always in such a rush, aren't you darling?" His arm caught her slim waist, halting her progress to the door.

The governess scowled, turning her face to his own, "I am not your 'darling'."

"Of course not, sweeting." His eyes held hers, unreadable; dark, "Now tell me what business you have entering a man's private study."

"Tell me yours and perhaps I will." She offered, resisting the urge to pout like a spoiled child.

The rogue raised an unimpressed eyebrow, "I asked you first." He conceded coolly, his smile wavering somewhat.

Hitomi attempted to struggle from the man's firm grip, "Well if you would perhaps un-_hand _me—"

"Who told you where to find it, first of all." His eyes narrowed, suspicious.

She gave up, her arms falling limply from where they had been attacking the hand, virtually pried onto her waist, "Nobody _told _me anything! This was merely the last room I had yet to search—"

"Search for what?"

Hitomi's scowl darkened.

"Who _are _you?" She demanded, her eyes searching his, "Asking me all these questions when you have absolutely no right!" She struggled again, "Especially when it is clear that we are _both _trespassing! You sir, are—"

He pulled her to him, ceasing her aggressive movements immediately as their bodies came unnecessarily close.

"Tell me what you were searching for." He muttered, smile erased, eyes hot and intense, lips mere inches from her own.

She swallowed, only just realising how very warm the air in the room was.

Or perhaps it was just the memory of those lips on hers.

"I-I will report you to the Viscount…" She threatened, although her voice somehow came out as little more than a rasp. She trained her eyes on his collar.

The stranger raised his eyebrows, a hint of amusement returning to his fiery gaze.

"That may prove rather pointless, I'm afraid, chick."

Hitomi glanced up at him in surprise.

"How so…?"

The stranger gave a low, amused chuckle.

"Because—"

The door opened without warning.

Hitomi all but jumped out of the stranger's embrace, and fortunately, he let her do so just in time. A butler entered, dipped his head to him, and completely ignored the reddening governess as she stared determinedly at the floor.

"Lord Fanel, your Mother has requested your presence in the dance hall for the next waltz."

Her eyes widened.

She looked up immediately to see him…the stranger, sigh in what appeared to be mild annoyance.

"Did she give any particular reason, Jones?" He asked the butler, not even glancing her way.

Jones nodded.

"Indeed, my Lord, she said you'd ask for one. She said—" At this point, he removed a small piece of paper from his pocket and read from it in an utterly bland drawl, "'Do stop being such a bore, Van. There is many a girl here who would love a dance with the Viscount – do humour me and associate with at least one of the fairer sex this evening. It's not as if you must marry every single one, dear boy.'"

The butler replaced the paper in his pocket, his face absolutely straight as he waited for a reply.

Hitomi couldn't stop her jaw from dropping ungracefully.

At this point, the Viscount Fanel sighed again.

"Tell her I will be there shortly."

Jones nodded, "Very good, my Lord."

And with that, he left them, closing the door.

The room was completely silent, save for the telltale flicker of the fire and, if one listened closely, the raindrops pelting on the nearby window.

After a moment or two of artificial, awkward calm, Hitomi broke the stillness.

"Forgive me, my Lord." She said at last, her gaze trained back on the floor, "I was not…not aware that this was your study."

"No, I don't think you were." He approached where she stood, near the centre of the carpet.

She swallowed.

"I…I am sorry, but I had no reason to even suspect—"

"That a man enter his own study?" She could imagine him raising a dark eyebrow, mocking her, "Well of course not."

Her head shot up.

"There is no need to patronise me, my Lord." Hitomi caught his semi-amused expression, "My foolishness is quite apparent _without _mockery."

The Viscount smiled briefly, "Mm, I don't know about that."

Hitomi felt a familiar ire smouldering under her skin.

"Well, if you remember correctly, my _Lord_," She enunciated exaggeratedly, "Never at any point did you actually _tell_ me how to address you!"

"Are you also aware that you did exactly that?"

The governess raised her eyebrows in disbelief, "That is not the point!"

"That is _exactly _the point, chick."

"Ugh! You make absolutely no sense!" Hitomi's hands flew up exaggeratedly, "And will you _desist _in using that awful endearment!"

"My sense is far superior to yours at this moment, sweetheart." He smiled, "And what would you have me call you then, since you are so opposed to my charm?"

"Perhaps my _name_ would not go amiss?" She retorted sarcastically, crossing her arms, "Although I suppose you do not know it…And your _charm_ leaves a lot to be desired, I assure you."

That seemed to strike a nerve, she noticed, as his smile fell and he crossed his arms to mimic hers.

"And what do you mean by _that_?" He asked, bemused.

Hitomi shook her head, tired of their seemingly endless sparring.

"I do not have time to list all its faults, my Lord, as I would surely be talking until dawn if I did so."

Their gazes locked for a moment, silently challenging, secretly revelling in the contact.

The viscount's smile returned.

And Hitomi was so busy wondering why, that she almost fell over when she realised he had just closed the remaining distance between them.

He caught her as she tripped, held her close as his face loomed above hers, firelight dancing on its hard planes and edges, his eyes alive, alight.

He tipped her chin up gently, and she caught her breath at his shadowed expression.

"I would wager," He murmured softly, his voice woven with seduction and heat, "that you had no such thoughts when I kissed you."

The governess swallowed at his close proximity, at his words…at the memories he stirred inside her.

She licked her lips, "I have no idea what you're talking about—"

"You're blushing." He whispered, his mouth twitching at one of the corners.

"I am not blushing!" Raising her hands to her cheeks, she attempted to cover the evidence, "It is just…very warm in here."

"My apologies for your discomfort." The Viscount took her hands from her cheeks, putting them to his chest before replacing his own around her waist.

Hitomi was mildly surprised to find that she let him, as well as to discover his heartbeat matched the increased pace of her own.

Her eyes hooded when he leaned in closer towards her, their lips almost touching.

"But I believe the reason your blood is heated so," He breathed, "is more likely because you want me to do this."

And then he—

Something knocked against the outside of the door.

"How about this one, Allen, I hear nothing going on inside…"

Aside from experiencing a horrible bolt of déjà vu, Hitomi felt as if the whole atmosphere had just been doused by a bucket of iced lemonade.

"Merle, my love," Came a familiar baritone, "Just open the bloody door before I break it down. Meet me in there after I…"

Giggling accompanied a set of footsteps echoing down the hall.

By this point, both the room's inhabitants had surfaced from their little heated moment, heads trained on the door, bodies still close and hearts still racing, although now for another reason entirely.

"It's Merle!" Hitomi whispered hurriedly as the viscount turned back to her, "She cannot see me this way! She simply cannot—"

He let go of her abruptly, "Hide over there," gesturing roughly towards the curtains by the window, he walked briskly to the door, "and stay quiet until I leave with her."

"Leave with her—?"

"Go!"

Without further delay, she complied.

Van drew the door open.

And Merle Rogers almost had a heart attack.

"Is there something I can help you with, Miss Rogers?" He asked coolly, straightening his coat.

Needless to say, the debutante was speechless.

"I…no my Lord, I was merely…" she stammered, probably for the first time in her life, "I was…"

Her eyes flashed as she latched onto an idea.

"I was looking for my chaperone actually… h-have you seen her?"

The Viscount regarded her, amused.

"I'm afraid I have not seen Miss Kanzaki this evening." He smiled, "But I am certain she is searching for you as we speak."

Merle looked positively mystified as to how he'd known Hitomi's name.

And behind the curtain in the study, Hitomi poked her head out to demonstrate her own confusion.

Unfortunately, the door concealed Van completely, making the action fairly pointless.

"Shall I escort you to the dance hall, Miss Rogers?" He held out his arm, which Merle stared at as if it were made completely out of diamond, "Perhaps then I could fetch you some lemonade, you look quite flushed."

The young woman looked up at him, unable to conceal her eagerness for him to do so, "Why, that would be lovely!" She took his arm, "But you need not trouble yourself for me, I am quite capable of fetching my own…"

Their voices faded down the hall as the door closed.

And it was only a few seconds after this, that Hitomi let the full extent of the situation sink in.

…

And yet all she could manage was a resounding, _"What_?!", which echoed around the room, embedding itself in the bookcases.

It eluded her how the Viscount could be such a gentleman after he'd just…just _man-handled _her in such a manner!

However, with no time to waste on such unanswerable things, she hurried to the door after flinging aside the curtains, opening it in order to peer out into the hallway. When the coast was completely clear, she darted out into the deserted corridor, hoping to god that nobody had seen—

Well, in all honesty, it was clear that nobody would take any notice, even if they had seen her; nobody ever took any notice.

But even still, as she walked hurriedly back to the ballroom, she reached up to retouch her hair (what was left of it anyway), though she doubted even Liddy would bother to ask where she'd been.

Would anybody ever bother?

Perhaps she should try wearing something more…daring to the next party. Perhaps something that wasn't brown…perhaps something that showed her figure, that showed skin.

Maybe _then _someone might notice her. Maybe somebody would look her way.

But it was at this point, entering the dance hall, that she began to ask herself…

Did she even want anybody to look at her?

…Anybody that wasn't him?

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**Cripes, as we English supposedly say all the time.**

**Well, I'd love to hear from you guys as to what you think. As to what I think? Well I think this chapter is about as appetising as poo on a plate.**

**But my opinion is seldom ever important.**

**Be honest please! And if you've read it, review it, since I'd do exactly the same to you, and it's only fair, okeys?**

**Toodles!**


	3. Chapter 3

**A/N: Oi Oi! Look how good I am at updating!  
Thankyou, all of you, for your fantastic reviews (even the ones that make fun of my Englishness :P); they seriously make my day and most certainly spur me on to complete another chapter.  
So yea, this one is LOOONG, mainly because I included a little from Van's POV at the beginning, and also because I included a little steamy interlude towards the end. Oh Lordy, I hope you don't hate it.**

**Anyway, info for this chapter:  
No. 1! - Chid and Millerna are siblings here, and are both in the Aston family.  
No. 2! - The _"ton" _refers to the social elite of the Regency era, if you weren't aware of the definition already and have been spending this whooole time wondering what the bloody hell I've been talking about.  
No. 3! - Erm...can't remember. **

**Right - time for me to shut my face. Enjoy!**

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Van Fanel abhorred parties.

Even now, as he watched, scowling, the final dregs of the upper classes stumbling out of his front door, he couldn't seem to remember why he had let them enter it in the first place.

He had never been fond of forcing idle conversation about the weather, nor enjoyed putting on the endless façade of sincere interest in a woman's opinion; the smile he faked and the greetings he sounded off one after another had become tedious performances, and the bows, the curtseys that answered them, were just pointless and senseless and, frankly, ridiculous to him. The seemingly endless list of his distastes rang through his head most every party he attended, and he had tired of its dreary additions long before this evening; yet he seemed to be especially frustrated this night in particular.

And hadn't a clue as to why.

All things considered, he was sure the party had gone well enough. His mother, whose idea it had been to throw the damn thing, had all but thrust a gaggle of girls into his vicinity whenever he'd re-entered the ballroom, and he had, of course, proceeded to dance with each one in turn, regardless of their waltzing skill (or lack thereof.). Frowning down at the newest scuffs on the tips of his finest leather boots, he sighed, conceding that he had at least pleased her in letting his feet be trodden on all evening. Perhaps she would be so pleased at his effort to be valiant for once that she would overlook his complete lack of effort to find a suitable bride.

Wishful thinking, he supposed ruefully.

Varie Fanel's yearning for a grandchild would surely not be appeased that easily, not if a _thousand_ clumsy debutantes had mistaken his feet for the floor. Her longing to welcome a child into the family, to secure another heir to the dukedom at the very least, had grown and grown over recent years, and it seemed obvious to her that now was the best time for him to take a wife and start a family of his own.

In response to the affirmation however, Van had gone on to raise several points.

"Father married you when he was five and thirty, if I recall correctly," he had countered that morning over the breakfast table, impassive to her latest conquest.

At this, Varie had frowned, "That may be, but have you failed to notice that you are fast approaching the same age? You are no longer in the first blush of youth, let me tell y—"

"I turned eight and twenty a fortnight ago." He raised an eyebrow, unmoved.

"My point exactly!"

In response, he had merely feigned engrossment in the paper and had dropped the matter entirely. Needless to say, it would undoubtedly be brought up again over breakfast the following morning, and so on and so forth.

Van sighed heavily, running a hand through the tangled obsidian mess of hair he had never shown fondness for.

The night had been long, tiring, but doubtless there would be something similar to attend the next evening. Yawning, he glanced at the grandfather clock nearby. Quarter to four. More likely in that case, that there was something he had to attend the very same day.

Oh, the toils of popularity.

Perhaps the next dinner or soirée or whatever in hell his mother had invited him to would yield more promising results.

Or at least some rather more promising women.

He began to climb the stairs, pondering the thought, before suddenly halting, his foot suspended over the third carpeted step, his eyes narrowed in contemplation.

Because it was at this point he realised why his mood had turned so sour.

His lips curved in a sardonic smile.

And it was because he had just remembered that the only woman he had found remotely "promising" that evening, and indeed a fortnight beforehand, seemed to be the only one averse to his charm. Christ, she was probably the most unsuitable bride he would find if he searched the whole of London.

Rude and unabashedly confident, deviously witty and terribly argumentative; Miss Kanzaki had won him over immediately with her curious magnetism.

If only his mother knew what inappropriate taste he had in women, he mused. He was sure she may have a heart attack if he were to announce that he intended to marry someone without a title, not to mention someone so lowly as a governess.

Indeed, he doubted she would even let him marry her at all.

And that was when his eyes widened.

The solution to the problem at hand raced through his mind in an instant; such a simple idea, but awfully cunning, to be sure. Of course he would have to assert all of his charm and intelligence to…yes, and then after she…perfect!

A moment later, he continued to ascend the stairs two at a time, the smile on his face wide and brimming with smug anticipation over what would, undoubtedly, ensure the end to his mother's constant heckling.

Seduction was a game after all, wasn't it?

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"You _what_?!" Daniel Gaddes choked on his coffee, lurching forward in his armchair.

Van shrugged and repeated himself, "I've found a fiancé."

Chid sighed, but didn't look up from his copy of _The Times_.

The gentleman's club was empty, save for the three old friends who were currently sharing what seemed like a rather important piece of news. It was rare to have the entire lounge to themselves, though not terribly surprising really, for such an early hour on a Tuesday morning.

Setting his cup down, Gaddes swallowed and moved to the edge of the seat.

"What the _devil _are you talking about?" He demanded, eyeing the Viscount sceptically.

Leaning back into the cushioned softness of his own chair, Van exhaled loudly.

"I intend to coax a governess into thinking she's going to marry me whilst simultaneously leading my parents to assume that I am, in fact, courting Merle Rogers." He started, watching as his friend's expression turned from one of mild bemusement to one of absolute horror. He continued, amused, "And when my mother finds out how I actually propose to "besmirch" the family name with low-born blood, she will insist on calling off the wedding. I will do so, obviously, but I shall tell her that I fear I will never live up to her expectations and indeed never love again, and thus, her guilt will force her to stop bothering me for two years at the very least."

He finished, checking his pocket watch before looking up to gauge his friends' reactions.

Gaddes was staring at him in disbelief.

Chid had yet to look up from his paper.

"H-Have you gone absolutely mad?" The silence was broken by the former.

Van frowned, "I am utterly serious."

At this point, Chid finally spoke from behind the article he was pretending to read.

"And what will you do after two years, when your mother starts heckling you again?"

Fortunately, the Viscount had already considered the answer.

"I suppose at that point I'll have to take some unsuspecting chit as a wife, won't I." He said plainly, picking up his own cup of coffee.

Gaddes guffawed, "So this detailed ploy is all to give you more time as a bachelor?"

Van made a noise of acknowledgement whilst swallowing the hot beverage.

A few moments of stunned silence followed before Chid sighed again, closed his paper loudly and threw it onto a nearby table.

"Why does it not surprise me," he drawled, standing, "that you would sacrifice your honour, merely to continue skirt-chasing."

The Viscount simply smiled.

"I didn't think I had any honour left to sacrifice."

"You were probably correct in the assertion." Gaddes added under his breath.

Chid ignored him, "Would it not be easier to just leave the country again?"

At this, Van seemed to flinch slightly, his smile fading as he shook his head.

"Running away doesn't solve anything." He said, looking into his coffee cup, pensive, a different tone lacing the façade of nonchalance.

A brief silence fell in the motionless room.

"Indeed." Chid broke it again, reading Van's features thoughtfully.

"Well," Gaddes cut in warily, attempting to steer away from the matter, "I admit that I am intrigued by the whole idea, but surely you must have doubts as to—"

Van turned to him, seemingly broken from his previous moment of abstraction, "None at all." He flashed a tight smile.

"Well then you are a fool." Chid conceded, bored, making his way to the door, "And have absolutely no idea what you're getting yourself into."

At this, the Viscount stood himself, turning to him, his eyes laughing, arrogant.

"Are you implying that I can't handle women, Aston?" He teased, watching his friend halt by the entrance to the lounge.

Chid turned slowly, his face expressionless.

"Are you implying that you can?"

"Pfft, do you not know me at all, man?"

They held each other's gaze for a moment, Van's eyes full of egotistical mirth, Chid's narrowed, and filled with none.

And then he asked something that the Viscount had not considered.

"What if you fall in love with her?"

Van blinked.

Gaddes let out snort of masculine amusement, "Don't be absurd, he barely knows the meaning of the word."

Chid merely gave the now-brooding Viscount a lasting stare as he turned to leave the room.

"My point precisely." He muttered on his way out.

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_3 Days later._

"Oh _do _stop fidgeting, Hitomi! It's only cleavage!"

The governess's head shot up guiltily, her hands falling limply away from the neckline of her dress. She frowned, proceeding to walk up the pathway.

"Do you not think it just… a little too much?"

Merle sighed, "Hitomi, darling, that neckline is positively nunnish compared to some I've seen." she straightened her gloves as they approached the front door, "Why, last week, as I recall, Lady Harris donned a garment which was more akin to a handkerchief than a dress; _you_ certainly have nothing to worry about."

_Since nobody will be looking at you anyway. _Hitomi heard the words she didn't say as clearly as if she'd shouted them.

"Indeed." She conceded after a moment, giving the debutante's (rather more revealing) apparel a sceptical glance as the door opened.

And it was only after the footman had ushered them in, after he had directed them to the enormous reception room and had urged them toward the crush, that Hitomi realised any ideas she may have had about tonight being different, about tonight being the night people asked _her_ name instead of merely asking for Merle's…were completely and utterly ridiculous.

It seemed so obvious to her already that, even if she had lowered the neckline of her favourite dress, even if she had pinned a flower in her already tousled-looking hair, even if Merle had leant her old perfume and unwanted earbobs…it meant nothing. Because, as she watched the debutante glide gently away from her and into the awaiting clutches of the _ton_, she knew that someone so plain as herself would always, _always _be overshadowed by women – _girls _– with more to offer.

With her lack of confidence, her plain face and lithe frame…she was simply too unattractive, in every way. She had nothing, nothing beautiful; feet that were not dainty, bosoms that were not large, legs that were too long and hair that was far too short. The list she had was expansive; never-ending.

And she had just found another addition, hadn't she.

Because inside her, at that moment, she felt the saddened, heavy beat of her loveless, bitter heart.

"Dear child, I hope you do not intend to stand in a doorway _all _evening."

Literally jumping out of her moment of self-pity, Hitomi breathed a sigh of relief as she realised they were merely Liddy's words of mock-outrage, as opposed to a stranger's. She turned to see her old friend smiling, eyebrows raised, behind her.

"Good evening, Liddy." She managed, somewhat cheerily.

The widow's eyes widened as they settled upon the cut of her dress, "My, and who are _we_ trying to impress this evening?"

Hitomi sighed as her earlier point was clearly demonstrated by the surprise in her friend's voice.

"It doesn't matter." She said, suddenly wishing she had never touched the damn garment, "Shall we sit by the—"

"I don't believe you for a second, my girl, I— Oh, Charles! Charles dear!"

Rolling her eyes as Liddy waved manically at a fairly startled looking gentleman on the other side of the room, Hitomi chose to leave the vicinity, lest the widow force her into a futile conversation with him or some other poor, unsuspecting victim.

She caught sight of Merle shortly afterwards, laughing politely with the Duke of Ersham, an acquaintance whose recent forays into French cuisine had noticeably enlarged his already generous girth, and whose coat seemed to be perilously close to expelling its tautly fastened buttons in a fit of vicious ire. Seeing the rather uncomfortable smile on the debutante's face, Hitomi thought it only fair to rescue the poor girl from his onslaught of inappropriate jokes. No eighteen year old innocent deserved quite so much vulgarity from one source.

Taking two glasses of lemonade from the nearby drinks table, she approached them, attempting to catch Merle's eye as she made her way through the crush. She reached them as the rapidly reddening duke neared the end of yet another unsuitable innuendo.

"…And then the chit said, 'I'd prefer two!'" Ersham roared with laughter, his belly shaking alarmingly close to Merle, who looked, frankly, terrified.

Hitomi cut in, handing a glass of lemonade to her charge hastily.

"Forgive me for interrupting, my Lord," She bowed to the sobering Duke, who glared directly at her bosom. Turning to the debutante hurriedly, she took her arm.

Merle, whose eyes flashed gratitude towards her gallant chaperone, feigned annoyance at having to leave, "Oh, bother! What is the problem now, Hitomi?"

Hitomi cleared her throat, thinking wildly of a suitable name with which to lie.

"It is only that Lady— no, Lord—er…"

Oh _goodness_! Any name would do!

"Does Lady James desire to speak with me again?" Merle's arm tightened around hers. Hitomi latched onto the fib.

"Yes! Yes, Lady James told me to fetch you immediately to discuss…erm…"

Merle's eyes rolled, before signalling to the Duke's sceptical expression, urging her to think of a reason.

Any reason!

"To discuss your…h—" Hitomi's hands gestured swiftly up to the debutante's elaborately decorated coiffure, "…_head_…w-…wear— to discuss your headwear!"

Ersham raised a cynical brow, "And what is wrong with her headwear?"

Merle smiled broadly, "Do you know, that is _exactly _what I wish to find out. Come on Hitomi, we shan't keep Lady Jones waiting!"

"Lady Jones?"

"Lady James!" Hitomi corrected the questioning duke hastily.

"That's the one!" She shouted back, pulling on her chaperone's arm forcefully, pushing forward until they reached the perimeter of the room.

Merle started giggling as she took a taste of her lemonade, letting go of Hitomi's hand to sit on a nearby chair, "That was close!"

Hitomi sat next to her, sipping from her own ornate glass, "Really, that man's humour is so unclean it could dirty the Thames." She said, frowning.

"Oh, it wasn't _so _bad. I am merely thankful that you took me away before the Viscount Fanel saw us talking."

At this, the debutante stood up and looked around hastily, handing her unfinished glass to a suddenly wide-eyed Hitomi.

"I was told he was attending, but I haven't actually— Oh look! There he is now! I— good Lord…"

Hitomi placed the glass on the table next to them, "What's the matter?" She asked into her own cup of lemonade, attempting to hide her anxious expression.

"Why— He's coming over here!"

She almost choked.

"Oh lud! Why must he choose to approach me when I am with _you _and not with friends!"

Shaking her head as she swallowed the mouthful, Hitomi smiled mirthlessly, "I am sure he will not judge."

Merle puckered her brow as she turned back to her briefly, "Be a dear, and don't interfere, will you? He most likely has no interest in who you are."

The bitter smile widened as Merle faced the oncoming Viscount.

_He had enough interest to learn my name._

_But I suppose you wouldn't remember that. _

Hitomi simply looked down, feigning interest in the contents of her lemonade as she saw Merle fidget nervously.

Then she heard him.

"Miss Rogers, you look ravishing."

And suddenly, she didn't want him to see her at all.

She didn't want him to see her standing next to Merle; so close that she could be compared and contrasted with such prettiness, such perfection, so near that she could be weighed and measured to be found lacking.

No. She did not want him to see the effort she'd made go to waste.

Her head dipped lower, her nose practically touching the rim of her glass.

She heard Merle chuckle lightly, "Thank you, my Lord."

"I trust you have enjoyed the evening thus far?"

The smile in his voice carried, and Hitomi wondered briefly if he was mocking her.

"Oh yes indeed, my Lord! I find that these spring nights are quite lovely when it is not raining."

The Viscount sighed wearily, not that Merle noticed, "Oh yes…the weather; it _has_ been awful, hasn't it."

Hitomi caught the boredom lacing his tone, shortly before she heard Merle assume the weather was all he wished to discuss.

"Well certainly it has been bizarrely hot for April, my Lord. But what with the constant showers, it is so very difficult to take the air regularly, do you not find? I am sure I have never experienced such an uncomfortable season in all my life."

"Indeed." He said simply, before clearing his throat, "Shall we take to the floor, my dear? I think a waltz is about to begin." He paused, before adding, "That is, if your friend approves."

Upon hearing this, Hitomi froze.

There was a moment of silence preceding Merle's artificial chuckle, "Oh, she is only my chaperone, pay her no mind."

Hitomi bit her lip.

Another silent moment.

"In that case, I should like to make sure I have permission." He said, quietly, and Hitomi's eyes widened as she saw one obsidian knee-length boot turn towards where she sat.

In reaction, she stared resolutely back into her lemonade, wishing the moment away.

However, Merle seemed intent on letting her do no such thing.

"Well?" The debutante prompted impatiently, "Do you mind, Hitomi?"

Cursing silently, Hitomi counted to three in her head before looking up at the couple, fake smile already in place.

"It is perfectly alright." She said, looking directly at Merle and not at the Viscount, whose expression remained impassive, "I'll just wait here."

Merle smiled broadly, locking her arm with his as she turned to him again, "Wonderful."

Hitomi felt the Viscount's gaze remain on her for a second longer than was proper.

"Indeed." He conceded, softly.

And then they were gone.

But not before Hitomi had glimpsed the wickedness in his dark eyes.

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The night drew on mercilessly, and the stifling heat of the room merely served to exacerbate the length of each torturous hour. Hitomi had realised fairly rapidly that she had quite forgotten what it felt like to be pleasantly cool; though she supposed one could hardly expect to consciously remember what it was to be comfortable whilst sitting on a hard wooden chair with a crooked back, surrounded by people and wine and stale, warm air.

After letting out what must have been her hundredth sigh of the evening, she took a sip of her champagne (for she had switched to champagne a good half hour beforehand), and looked out towards the crush. However, by this point the room was so full of dancing couples and chatting acquaintances that attempting to locate her charge proved absolutely pointless, for she could see no further than those lacing the edges of the crowd.

Laying aside her drink, she stood, perhaps not as steadily as she would have half an hour beforehand, and steeled herself to enter the throng. She ducked and edged (and elbowed) her way in, not completely surprised to find that the heat was somewhat unbearable when shoved into a mass of sweating, overdressed, slightly inebriated members of the upper class. Fortunately however, after forcing dozens of limbs from her path for several minutes, her eyes finally fell on their mark.

Merle.

And Hitomi breathed a heady sigh of relief.

Because the Viscount was not with her.

She appeared to be laughing gaily with someone Hitomi recognised as Lady Millerna Aston, a woman who had little to no morality left in her perfectly proportioned body, and who had conducted more affairs with married men than Hitomi had fingers and toes put together. From her own dealings with the woman, Hitomi found her to be arrogant and condescending, however she very much doubted any man would bear the brunt of her unpleasant disposition whilst showering her with gifts every waking moment. Life as a high-class mistress had made her rich in assets and in wealth, but it was with scepticism that Hitomi wondered if her heart had not yet suffered from the fickle existence.

Her eyes lingered on the pair thoughtfully, before her attention was caught by the string quartet, which had just begun another waltz.

She rolled her eyes.

How she abhorred parties.

Moving swiftly away, she headed for the outer wall, mostly composed of large, ornate windows and, more importantly, a door leading out onto the terrace. Once again having to push forcefully past people in a fairly unladylike manner, it took her the best part of two minutes to actually get anywhere near the edge of the room, and it was only when she was literally one yard away from uncrowded territory, whilst turning to catch a last glimpse of Merle dancing with a red-haired gentleman, that she actually bumped into someone.

Falling ungracefully into the stranger as she attempted to turn around, she felt two strong arms catch her waist firmly. She jumped at the contact, and stumbled immediately out of their embrace.

"Ah! I'm so sorry, do excuse my clumsiness—"

A familiar, crooked grin stopped her explanation.

However, Lord Fanel's amusement did nothing short of aggravate her beyond bearing.

"You again!"

The Viscount's eyes flashed wickedness, "Me again." He said quietly, regarding her displeased expression with open enjoyment. They stared at each other a moment, before Hitomi sighed exasperatedly.

She rolled her eyes, gesturing to the nearby door, "Will you _please _move out of my way."

"Is this how you apologise to everyone you smack into awkwardly?"

Hitomi made to push him aside, ignoring his pointless mockery, "I have al_ready _apologised to you, my Lord, now if you would just let me through—"

He didn't budge, "Where must you get to so hastily, chick?"

"Please move."

"A secret rendezvous on the terrace, perhaps?"

Her mouth dropped open in indignation, "Do not be _ridiculous_!"

The viscount's gaze slid over the cut of her dress briefly.

"There is nothing ridiculous about it." He said softly after a moment.

To her horror, she reddened, "I— will you _please _let me through! People are beginning to watch!"

"Well then let them watch."

Hitomi blinked in astonishment.

"You are incorrigible!"

He merely smiled roguishly once more.

"You are most kind."

To her relief, somebody had the good sense to interrupt them before she could scream at his deliberate obtuseness.

"Fanel!" Ersham, the very Duke Hitomi had thrown excuses towards hours beforehand, approached them, clapping the Viscount on the back in a manner that was utterly male. He glanced at Hitomi briefly, outwardly showing dislike before deciding to ignore her altogether.

"What are you doing over here?" He bellowed, "A chap such as yourself should be associating with the _real _women! Here, come over and let me introduce you to…"

Hitomi had taken the chance to manoeuvre away before she could hear who the viscount would no doubt be forced to converse with. She all but ran to the closed terrace door, slipping outside unseen and unheard before anyone even noticed the entrance had been opened.

She closed it softly behind her, relishing the breeze in the unbearably humid air. It was as this point she was rather glad for the open neck of her old dress, for it seemed it was finally proving to be somewhat useful. Sighing, she walked briskly until she reached the edge of the terrace.

Perhaps an excuse for woman, such as herself, should just remain out here all evening. She laughed mirthlessly.

An excuse for a woman. Not a real one.

A perfect summary, wasn't it.

Because no man had ever shown any interest in her. Not one.

She had but one kiss to claim for the whole of her life, and it hadn't been out of tenderness or longing. It had been to bloody _silence_ her.

Lud, she was a sad story; kissed out of sheer exasperation.

The moon hung, lush and luminous in the dimming purple sky above her, and as she stared at its silky glow, she couldn't help but wonder;

Just what was the point?

The door started to open far behind her. Startled at the movement, she cursed at the horrible sense of déjà vu and looked around for any sort of hiding place or shadow; fortunately, she saw that the terrace led round the corner of the house, to an outer wall without any windows.

Probably for situations just like this, she mused.

She darted from her position, pressing her back up against the cold brick as soon as she reached the corner.

And immediately after doing so, she heard footsteps, slow and steady, approach.

She swallowed and—

"Miss Kanzaki, would you care to tell me why you appear to be cowering in such a manner?"

Hitomi blinked in astonishment as to how he'd seen her, not moving an inch.

"I am not _cowering_, my Lord, I am merely…I simply wish to be alone."

The viscount came into view, rounding the corner.

"Well that is a most distressing notion, chick."

Hitomi rolled her eyes at him for the second time that evening, easing the tension from her body.

"Would you please desist in using that dreadful—"

"It's called an endearment, sweeting."

"I know what it's called!" She took a step towards him, "And that is exactly why I dislike it! An endearment is something reserved for a friend o-or a relative, or—"

"A lover?"

His eyes caught hers, intense; all fire and darkness and sultry seduction. She swallowed, doing her best not to fall to their sinful heat.

"P-Precisely."

Silence fell briefly, before being broken by the Viscount's heavy sigh. He leaned against the balustrade, his lithe body shifting position with such unconscious grace that it quite fascinated her.

"So are you enjoying the evening?"

Hitomi blinked, considering his nonchalance warily.

"That is neither here nor there." She conceded after a moment, "I am here for Merle."

Her eyes watched his as they took in her figure once again. She almost jumped when they returned to her own, darkened.

"I've never seen you in a dress like this before."

She frowned, "And? Since when did you see fit to concern yourself with my wardrobe?"

He flashed a lopsided smile.

"I am only paying you a compliment, my dear."

"Well don't." She snapped, uneasy, "Besides, you have only seen me three times in your entire life, and the first time it was dark; so pardon me if I do not—"

"Ah yes, I remember." The Viscount took his weight off the balustrade, crossing his arms, "We were outside, weren't we." He grinned wickedly again, "Just like we are now."

Hitomi's eyes widened at his tone.

"I-Indeed." She stammered, thinking it best to get as far away from the man as was humanly possible, "Well, if you'll excuse me, I think I'll—"

"Oh no," He took a step towards her, practically abolishing all chance she had of escaping since he blocked the small gap between the balustrade and the brick wall, where the corner met the open terrace, "We never finished our conversation from before."

Sighing as she stepped away from him, Hitomi threw her hands up in exasperation, "What conversation?!"

The Viscount raised a roguish brow, "The one we were having in my study."

She blinked.

"W-What?" She backed against the wall, unconsciously edging away from him.

"Don't you remember?"

Hitomi eyed him cautiously as he began to close the distance between them, "What are you doing?" She asked, her voice tight.

He stopped, smiling slightly.

"Is there a reason you are so averse to me being anywhere near you this evening?"

And it wasn't until she had opened her mouth in an attempt to come up with a worthy excuse for wanting to avoid him at all costs, and had closed it again several seconds later, that she realised she simply did not know the reason.

Dressed as he was in dark evening clothes, his cravat simply tied and his hair still too long and undisciplined, he looked wonderful; wickedly handsome. And so for her to want to avoid him, especially when he appeared to be making a bafflingly worthy effort to talk to her, was simply incomprehensible.

Yet what was more incomprehensible, was why on _earth _he seemed to be going out of his way to talk to her in the first place. _Him_, a Viscount, son of an Earl and heir to a vast fortune and countless estates; _him_, a womaniser, a rogue, a rake, conducting affairs with the most beautiful women in London, breaking hearts, stealing hearts, owning them and then letting go of them in the blink of an eye without a second thought.

Why would someone like _him _want anything to do with someone like her?

_Her_, an excuse for a woman.

"Well?" He prompted, his arms crossed moodily.

Hitomi shrugged.

"I suppose I just…I suppose I am simply wary of your…_intentions_." She conceded eventually, watching as he uncrossed his arms, his brow furrowing.

A silent moment passed, and then:

"Well I suppose that is fair," The viscount agreed, thoughtfully, closing the distance between them so gradually that Hitomi barely noticed their position until his face shadowed hers.

"W-What?" She stammered, attempting to flatten herself to the wall more successfully in vain.

"I said, 'I suppose—"

"I heard what you said!" Hitomi snapped, ignoring his boyish smile, "I only meant to ask what on earth you meant by it."

She almost choked when he leant his forearm on the wall above her head, leaning in so close to her that she could feel his breath on her cheek as she turned away.

"What do you think I meant by it, Hitomi?" He whispered lightly into her ear, his lips grazing the rim as he did so.

Eyes wide, barely processing the use of her first name, Hitomi could only turn her face to him in silent question.

His gaze darted down to her slightly parted lips, "Do you remember our conversation now?" He breathed, his fingers coming up to lightly run across her chin, tilting it upwards at her silence, "The one in my study…do you recall?"

Hitomi's eyelids drifted closed as those skilful fingers traced a line down her neck, down, down, until they reached her collarbone, where they stayed a moment, only to stray across her skin to the curve of a bared shoulder.

"I…" All coherent thought had fled from her mind, leaving her only with feeling as she revelled in his touch.

"You were blushing…just like you are now," He continued, leaving her breathless as he moved closer still, "And you denied it then…didn't you?"

She bit her lip.

"But will you deny it now, Hitomi?" His voice was low, soft in her ear.

"My Lord, I can't—"

"My name is Van," He brushed his lips against her cheek, smiling as he felt her shiver, "I abhor titles."

"But…" Hitomi breathed, opening her eyes to see his, heavy lidded and depthless; endless.

He leaned in, grazing her mouth with his own, "Tell me you don't want this."

The words were seduction; temptation and sweet sin.

But she bowed to them.

She welcomed them.

And when he kissed her, she worshipped everything they stood for.

He possessed her then, coaxed her lips open with his and took her mouth slowly, taught her a rhythm that made her gasp into his skin. She learned, learned through the sensuous and languorous assault on her senses, that she had been longing, yearning for this moment for weeks; the way his warmth seemed to seep into her though layers of clothing, his hands on her waist, his body running the length of hers…it was like nothing she had ever known. It was magnificent.

The silken touch of his tongue made her freeze momentarily, before he showed her that rhythm too, grunting his approval as she began to play, her hands finding their way to his shoulders, squeezing the taught muscle they found there, trailing to his chest, over his heart, and then up to his neck, to the thick, lusciously dark hair behind it. He ate at her mouth, tasting her as he explored every corner of it; she moaned as he pressed impossibly closer.

And the sound, apparently, induced the withdrawal of her talented tutor.

Van moved from her, catching her swollen bottom lip in his own softly before edging away. She leaned towards him, wanting more, _needing _more of his powerful magic, but he evaded her, smiling, his breath coming fast.

Hitomi's head swam, her senses saturated and lethargic.

"I think…" The Viscount murmured after a moment, his voice a deep silk over gravel, "I think we should…go back inside."

And that was when she woke up.

That was when she realised what she had just done; what she had just led herself to - purposefully.

Wordlessly, she covered her kiss-softened mouth with her hands, shaking her head slightly at her naivety; at her desperation.

But as she looked up at him, she saw the darkness, the danger and fire still lurking in his eyes, and she realised…

He had wanted her.

He still wanted her.

"Hitomi…"

And the thought terrified her more than anything she had ever known.

Before he could say or do anything, she pushed past him, "Do not come near me again."

His eyes widened at the words, practically snarled in his direction, and he turned to her retreating form as it approached the terrace door.

He smiled slightly, though not in amusement, as she disappeared from sight, running his fingers over his lip errantly.

"I can promise no such thing."

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**Ooo-er! Cheeky bastard.**

**Do review, gentle reader. It's good karma.**

**Toodles!  
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	4. Chapter 4

**A/N: Oh dear. WELL, where do I begin? My life has been a giant crap-hole for the last month or so, so I apologise for the ma-HU-sive gap between updates. Turns out that I've worked my arse off this term for absolutely nothing because OXFORD UNIVERSITY DOESN'T WANT ME. Funny story; they asked me what my favourite dictionary was in my interview, and I accidentally laughed because I thought it was a joke... TURNS OUT IT WASN'T A JOKE, PEOPLE. In summary, life = crap-hole. BUT HEY, I'M OVER IT. They blates just didn't want me because I have a nose piercing. I IS 2 GANGSTA FOR DEM.  
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**AAAAnyway, here's the next chapter. It's a long'n. I sort of just... kept writing to take my mind off everything. This chapter will probably answer some of the questions which were sort of... hanging around - Hitomi finally grows a backbone! Brill!**

**But yes, ENJOOOOOY.**

**(cough Damn those Oxford bastards. cough cough)**

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Hitomi watched idly through the window as a sparrow hopped from branch to branch of an old cherry tree by the road. The book resting in her lap had been still for the last twenty minutes she had been doing so, and currently laid open on page three of two-hundred and sixty five; a surprisingly poor effort, really. The morning had passed slowly, as if dragging itself to midday, where it should find some greater meaning. Hitomi imagined it was as distracted as she, and simply could not remember where it was supposed to be going or what it was meant to be doing. Honestly, she had lost track of time herself. Her mind was no longer her own; not since last night. Now, it was filled with…well, cotton wool more than anything else, as well as images which flashed before her, of eyes and lips and fingertips. She would find herself shivering involuntarily, only to catch herself thinking of a dark voice in her ear or her own sighs into the night. She frowned as the sparrow she had been following hopped down to the ground before flitting away somewhere undoubtedly more private.

It was only after looking down at her lap once more, to where the book lay, innocent and at rest, that Hitomi realised she had quite forgotten what it was she was actually reading. Essentially, she had walked into the parlour that morning without much thought at all, and had reached for the first book within her grasp. She hadn't actually given attention to the title or author, a habit she usually approached with meticulous consideration before choosing a tome. She blinked and turned lightly to the book's cover.

_Romeo and Juliet_

_William Shakespeare_

She closed her eyes and cursed beneath her breath.

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"I daresay she should see right through you, Fanel."

Van smiled easily at Daniel Gaddes' attempt at ridicule. Chid buried his face in that morning's edition of _The Times_, showing blatant disinterest.

"And I daresay you're right." Van folded his arms, leaning back against the front of his desk. "But what she _should_ do and what she _shall_ do are two very different ideals, are they not?"

The friends were in the library of his fashionable London townhouse, apparently conducting a business meeting, although in reality they were doing nothing of the sort. Daniel snorted at the Viscount's confidence.

"You seem very sure of her intentions," He raised a brow, "Surely you know better than to second-guess what a woman is thinking."

Van swatted away the idea with an impatient hand.

"Women are simple, Daniel. Far more simple to understand than you and I."

"Only the ones you've bedded thus far." Chid cut in smoothly, not looking up from the paper.

"Indeed," Van nodded towards him, smirking, "And what do you think that implies?"

"Oh, of _course_." Chid lowered the paper in one swift movement, his tone dripping with sarcasm, "It means all women are _exactly _the same. How could I have missed that?" He exchanged a pointed glance with the Viscount before raising his paper once again.

Daniel disguised his amusement with a well-timed cough.

"That's not what I meant." Van took his weight from the desk and walked over to where Chid sat reading in a leather armchair. After eyeing the front page, the Viscount pressed his hand down from the top of the centre fold, simultaneously crumpling the news from view and irritating his friend.

"What I meant," He regarded Chid's impassive expression over the ruined paper, "was that it implies my ability to understand them. Of course they're not all the same." He formed a lop-sided smile before adding, "Some of them require flowers before agreeing to a tumble."

There was a roar of laughter from Daniel on the other side of the room.

Van grinned boyishly at him before turning back to Chid, who was staring at him intently, seriously, eyeing his amusement, his lightness.

After a moment, he folded the now-crumpled paper and held it on his lap. "I can't decide who you are deceiving more, Van. Is it Daniel, or yourself?"

Van's smile fell slowly. Daniel, still chuckling next to a bookcase, had obviously not heard the comment. Chid's eyes held no trace of frivolity, their deep blue turning cold and distant. When he spoke again, his voice was quiet, almost gentle.

"I saw you watching her last night, Van, this governess of yours. And I can tell you now, she is different." He stood, causing the Viscount to take a step back. "She is different, and you know it."

He made a move towards the door.

Van's brow creased as he was suddenly filled with something akin to outrage. Just what was the man saying? Ridiculous. Of course he hadn't been watching her. Of course he hadn't been following her every move or imagining her breathy sighs in his ear. What on earth would he do that for…? She was just a woman. Just part of his plan. He could never think of her as anything more than that.

Even if her response to him had been…

He caught himself. Blinked. Came up with a suitably nonchalant retort.

"Tell me, Charles," He spoke across the room, using Chid's full name in an attempt to antagonise him, "just because you claim to have loved, do you assume everyone to fall for those they glance at for more than a second?"

Charles Aston stopped, mid-step, but did not turn around.

"No, Van." He said quietly after a long beat, ignoring Daniel's awkward attempt to move away from the scene, "Only those who I see myself in."

Van scowled.

"Until tomorrow."

The door clicked behind him.

Daniel looked to Van, who had turned to stare broodingly into a bookcase.

"Well," He said, raising his brows at the Viscount's brooding silence, "What are you going to do now?"

Narrowing his eyes, Van straightened his jacket.

"I'm going to prove the bastard wrong."

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Van did not like the Rogers' butler.

"If you would just let me wait—"

"Miss Rogers is not in, my Lord, I have told you—"

"And I have told _you_ that I do not mind waiting—"

"Pardon, my Lord, but you cannot wait—"

Van rolled his eyes. They had been at this for a good three minutes now. Why in God's name was such a complete _ass_ in the Rogers' employ? Sighing, desperate to keep his temper under control, he tried again.

"Are you telling me that there is nowhere I could wait for her, sir? No parlour or kitchen, or dare I say it, _chair_ that I could sit on in the meantime?"

The butler sniffed.

"Miss Kanzaki is currently occupying the only parlour, my Lord, and has given strict orders not to be—"

The Viscount verbally jumped on the butler's slip.

"Ah, but I should not think she shall mind if I take tea with her; Miss Kanzaki and I are old acquaintances."

"My Lord—"

"I'll thank you to announce my arrival." He swept past the stuttering old man into the entrance hall, grinning satisfactorily.

"I…but…" The butler resigned himself to a losing battle, "Very good, my Lord."

He then closed the front door and disappeared through a door on the right of the hallway. There was a feminine muttering from within, and Van could have sworn a book was dropped onto the floor in haste to stand up. This short interlude was followed by the re-emergence of the butler. However, to Van's annoyance, the door to the parlour was closed shortly after him.

The butler cleared his throat.

"Miss Kanzaki has stated that she is not expecting you and cannot possibly receive you without the proper warning."

Van fought the urge to roll his eyes.

"Well," He started, calmly, "give my deepest, heartfelt apologies to her before stating that I have…" He thought of a reasonable excuse for being there, "…extremely _important_ news which I cannot possibly wait to impart to her."

"Well, my Lord, I can—"

"_Personally._"

The Butler eyed him warily before returning to the parlour.

There was more feminine muttering, a pause, and then the Butler once more appeared.

He came to stand in front of the Viscount before gesturing into the room.

"You may enter, my Lord."

Resisting the urge to drawl his thanks sarcastically, Van nodded to him before stepping through the open door.

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Hitomi doubted she had ever been so nervous in all of her life. She half expected him to come in and pounce on her, claws outstretched like the beast he was. The image made her heart beat a trifle too fast for her liking. Memories of the night before were still swimming in her head, haunting her thoughts. The whispered words, the forbidden friction of his lips on hers… Why was he here?! It was enough to drive a girl mad. Indeed, perhaps she had gone insane, letting him enter when his presence in this house, alone, with her, broke every rule of propriety she had enforced for the last eight years. What was she thinking!?

The plain fact was, she really wasn't thinking at all.

When he did eventually enter, she regarded him coolly, schooling her features into a mask of indifference. He looked at her in return as the butler made his exit, making a blatant study of her countenance as if… trying to convince himself of something. Their gazes seemed to spark off each other. After a moment, he collected himself.

"Miss Kanzaki." He bowed gracefully.

Hitomi looked on with a wariness she did not attempt to disguise. He looked every inch a Viscount, as per usual, with an exquisitely tailored morning suit which seemed to hold to him in all the right places, accentuating his lean, athletic form and undoubtedly concealing the muscled perfection which lay underneath. Her cheeks reddened reluctantly as her thoughts took on a rather sinful path.

She made a small curtsy, as if meeting him for the first time. As if he'd never held her close or breathed into her ear or kissed her lips until they were full and pink. She cleared her throat, cutting the formalities before they'd barely even begun. "What are you doing here?"

Van took a step further into the room, casually surveying the bookshelves as he approached her slowly.

"I thought I'd pay Miss Rogers a visit. Is that such a problem?"

His tone made her frown.

"I daresay it _is_ when you have no doubt been informed of her absence." She crossed her arms moodily, dropping her voice to a violent whisper, "Not to mention the fact that I've told you to stay away from us both."

She watched as he skimmed his fingers along a row of her favourite poetry books, apparently choosing to ignore her comment. The delicacy of his fingertips seemed to fascinate her in ways she did not entirely understand. He turned to her, causing her heart to jerk awkwardly.

"To be fair," he started, flicking an imaginary speck of dust from the sleeve of his jacket, "you never said anything about staying away from your charge." His eyes caught hers, challenge flashing in their depths. "Only you."

"I…" Hitomi blinked before shaking her head at him in frustrated wonder. "And do you really think I would let you go anywhere near her after..." She struggled for an appropriate description of their… encounters, "—after you've treated me in such a manner?!"

Van smiled knowingly, "And what manner would that be?"

She hated the fact that his grin widened at her silence. Her eyes narrowed.

"Must you insist on embarrassing me every time we meet, my Lord?"

The Viscount raised a sardonic brow.

"We're back to titles now, are we…" He muttered, "_Embarrassing_ you? I think that's a little harsh." His tone was defensive, yet mockingly so. He gestured to a nearby chair. "You may sit down, by the way."

Hitomi blinked again, realising that she had been standing for far longer than was appropriate. She cleared her throat, crossing her arms moodily.

"I am aware of what I may and may not do in your company, my Lord." She bit out, "I simply choose not to become comfortable in your presence because it is absolutely pointless."

Leaning against a mahogany bookcase, Van made a tutting noise with his tongue.

"Always so aggressive, aren't you." He looked down at something on the floor in front of her.

"And with good reason!" Hitomi countered, noticing where his gaze had fallen and looking there herself. Her eyes came upon the book she had dropped a few minutes ago, at the announcement of his arrival. She had stood up so fast it was faintly surprising said book hadn't flown out the window.

"Reading, were you?" He moved towards her before she could gauge his intentions.

"I…well yes, I was, but—"

Van bent to pick up the tome, splayed open on the floor somewhat indecently. As he straightened, he held it gently, with the utmost care, as if used to handling books on a regular basis. Hitomi's thoughts drifted back to the library in his townhouse, the one she had stumbled upon, or rather, _into_. She recalled the well-thumbed collections gracing its many shelves and could not stop the arch of surprise in her brow. So it was _him_ who read so veraciously…

Van regarded the page it had split on. After a moment, he smiled and looked up.

"Your taste strays to Shakespeare, I see." He closed the book softly, a glint in his eyes. "Or is it simply romance that draws you?"

Hitomi sighed impatiently, stretching out a hand towards the book and wiggling her fingers in a half-hearted effort to acquire it from him. Van merely drew his hands further away, teasing.

"Well?" He prompted.

The governess planted her hands on her hips missishly.

"I can assure you that I have absolutely no interest in romance, my Lord." She watched as he raised a sceptical brow, and suddenly felt the need to verify the statement. "It is the…the _poetry_ that… 'draws' me, if you must know."

Van seemed to consider this for a moment.

"But surely the romance lies _in_ the poetry." He argued, his smile subtle, "Surely," he went on, "Shakespeare intended his verse to be interpreted as a means by which to convey the beauty and poetry of _love_…"

Hitomi's eyes narrowed. "What is your point?"

His smile remained. "My point is that, at least on some level, you enjoy the poetry because of its romantic subject matter." He placed the book in her outstretched hand carefully, grinning. "Therefore it _is_, in fact, the romance that draws you."

She frowned down at the item in question.

"On the contrary, my Lord," She countered before she could stop herself, her argumentative nature clouding her better judgement, "I find the romance of _Romeo and Juliet _to be naïve and shallow, not to mention absolutely tedious."

Their eyes caught as she looked up at him again. He appeared to be somewhat intrigued by the little unprompted debate they had started.

"Tedious?" He questioned, taking a small step closer to her, "You find passionate, all-consuming love _tedious_?"

Hitomi shrugged, "I find it hasty and idealistic between children who do not know any better."

"Then you don't think they feel genuinely for each other?"

"I don't think they have any idea of what love even is!" She countered, suddenly becoming rather engaged, "Let alone what is genuine and what is not."

Van brought a hand up to his chin and scratched it thoughtfully.

"So you think…what, that they simply _assume_ their attraction to one another?" He shook his head, disbelievingly.

Hitomi fought the urge to poke him forcefully with her finger. "Attraction and love are two very different things! I never said they weren't _attracted_ to one another. Of course they are. If anything, that's the premise for the superficiality of their relationship." She shook the book at him like a schoolmistress, "He desires her; she desires him. How can you call such a thing 'love' when it is plainly _lust_ which fuels their attraction?!"

The Viscount took a step closer to her, now rather caught up in the discussion himself. "But do you not think their love grows from lust? Do you not think it is the lust and attraction which allows them to learn of each other on a deeper level?"

"Indeed I do not." Hitomi almost laughed at the idea. "It merely proves their insecurity, their vulnerability and their naivety. It merely serves to show that Romeo is a boy and Juliet is a girl and they want each other – and that's the thing isn't it." She leaned towards him slightly, "They're selfish. They're only out to satisfy what they _think _they need, what they _want_."

Van rolled his eyes, "But Romeo _marries_ her, for christ's sake! And there is nothing _selfish_ about that, believe me, no man in his right mind would marry before he was forced at the point of a sword down the aisle."

Hitomi crossed her arms at his callousness, "Well just think about it; how far would _you _go to get what you want?"

It was at this point both seemed to realise their close proximity. Their bodies were only an inch or two away from each other, their faces near, their eyes trapped in one another's. Hitomi swallowed as they both fell still, silent. It seemed the debate had become…a little too heated.

Van's gaze darkened. His smile fell. And then he whispered something that made her remember exactly who he was, exactly where they were. Exactly what he was capable of.

"I wouldn't need to go anywhere, Hitomi." He breathed.

"I _take_ what I want."

Suddenly the room was far too hot, and then far too cold… and then fell away altogether. Hitomi felt the depth of his words, felt their heat and their fire, knew the danger that laced his meaning. She saw him lean in, felt herself losing the battle within herself to stay away, to get away from this rogue, this stranger who kept invading her dreams like a phantom. As her eyes closed, flashes of warning danced before them, of Merle, of propriety, of dignity and virtue and… everything else that had fallen away for this beast of a man. This wicked, cunning, charming, elegant, eloquent beast of a man.

They had kissed twice, almost three times before now, and both had been wonderfully improper and entirely his doing. Yet now, Hitomi felt herself…well, wanting…_something_. It terrified her that she had no idea what it was. She blinked her eyes open, her wits returning in a fuzzy, drunken instant. The feeling of déjà vu, a reminder of the night before, was heavy in her mind.

Incidentally, had good sense evaded her a second longer, she would have been out on the streets before dinner.

Because the handle on the door creaked just before Van's lips touched hers, and the speed with which she leapt away from his embrace was, frankly, admirable.

Merle swept into the room, unannounced by the Butler who had obviously not expected the debutante to run into the parlour before him. Her cheeks were delightfully flushed from the outside air, and her smile radiant, as always, ready to greet whichever man lay in wait for her.

"Lord Fanel!" She gushed, her eyes immediately fixing on his mock-casual stance against a bookcase (on which he had leaned back upon a mere millisecond before).

Van smiled warmly, though the gesture did not quite reach his eyes, and made a stylish bow. Hitomi stared resolutely at the treacherous book in her hands.

"Miss Rogers," He rose, "What a pleasure it is to see your beautiful visage so early in the morning."

Merle let free a practiced giggle, swatting a dainty, gloved hand in his direction. "But my Lord, it is well past midday!"

"Perhaps," The viscount's smile turned roguish, "though I would say that your presence would brighten any room enough to confuse a man so."

Hitomi fought the urge to roll her eyes. How many unsuspecting women had he used _that _one on?

Merle seemed delighted with such mindless flattery. She blushed sweetly as Van walked over to her, and then further when he took her hand and delicately brushed a kiss over her knuckles.

"Oh, my Lord," She placed a hand over her heart, batting her eyelids, "You are too much!"

"Never." He dropped her hand gently. Merle began staring rather wistfully at him.

Hitomi somehow felt as if she'd turned invisible. She cleared her throat audibly.

Merle's head turned in her direction, obviously noting her presence for the first time since she'd entered the room.

"Oh!" She exclaimed, "Hitomi, have you been standing there all this time? I could have sworn you weren't there a moment ago."

Hitomi smiled slightly in spite of herself, "Oh, don't mind me." She gestured to the Viscount, now also looking in her direction, "I'm sure you and Lord Fanel have much to discuss." Her eyes caught his. He grinned.

"I'll just ring for some tea." She muttered, ignoring him, and walked briskly to the corner of the room where the bell-pull was.

Merle turned to the Viscount again while she was doing so, gesturing to a chair, "Please sit down, my Lord. Forgive my chaperone for not inducing you to do so when you arrived."

Hitomi heard the Viscount respond from behind her, "There's no need to apologise, Miss Rogers. It was my fault entirely. I admit that I was inspecting your book collection."

Merle did not disguise her lack of interest, "Oh, it is frightfully dull, isn't it." She admitted, "Nothing but Shakespeare and books about history and astro… something or other." Hitomi turned around to see her making a dismissive gesture towards the bookcases. "There's nothing for a genteel woman like me to read. It's all gobbledegook."

Van chuckled lightly, "Indeed." He turned to Hitomi, who purposefully avoided eye-contact with him. "And no doubt Miss Kanzaki would agree?"

Hitomi blinked in surprise. Merle answered before she could summon up her own reply.

"Oh no, Hitomi practically lives in this room, don't you, Hitomi?" She proclaimed openly, not actually waiting for Hitomi to agree or disagree, "She reads the silly things every day."

The governess reddened. Her passion for reading was something that was not entirely ladylike, or at least, it was not expected of a lady to know such things. Women who expressed interest in expanding their intellect in such a way were often labelled as blue-stockings…and deemed absolutely unsuitable for marriage. No surprises there. After all, 'good' wives would never answer back or question their husbands' decisions; they would certainly never spark up an intellectual argument or debate. Heavens, how incredibly vulgar would that be.

Van made a non-committal noise after regarding her for a moment. He then turned back to Merle.

"Tell me, Miss Rogers, how would you like to come as a guest to our annual house party in Hampshire tomorrow fortnight?"

For a moment, Merle's eyes seemed ready to pop right out from their sockets. It was a wonder they did not, for the question had been asked so bluntly, without any of the usual ceremony that went with these things, that it was faintly unbelievable. Hitomi's breath caught in her throat. It was indeed out of the blue, but if Merle accepted… that would mean…

"W-Well, my Lord, this is… what a surprise this is!" She stuttered back, glancing at Hitomi for some sort of guidance. Hitomi was as shocked as she, and simply looked on in horror. Merle turned back to Van, who smiled easily.

"Please do not look so alarmed, Miss Rogers." He brought his hands up in a gentle gesture of reassurance, "As I said, the party is annual; a tradition in fact. As per usual, my Mother has asked me to find and invite appealing company." He nodded in her direction, "You, and of course Miss Kanzaki, would be welcomed most warmly onto the guest list."

Merle let out a generic noise of glee. Whilst willing her heart to slow its rapid beating, Hitomi made a mental note to work on concealing one's emotions with the debutante.

"Oh, my Lord, that sounds wonderful! I would love to attend, of course!" Merle beamed before sobering slightly. "Though I should hate to impose… considering all the others who shall be there…"

Van shook his head, smiling still, "Oh, there won't be many. Only a hundred or so."

Merle's mouth fell open.

"Well," The Viscount stood up without warning, "I regret that I must take my leave so soon, but duty calls, I'm afraid."

The debutante stood up in a rush, "Oh but… won't you stay for tea, my Lord?"

"No, No, I couldn't possibly—"

"But—"

"We understand, my Lord." Hitomi cut in before Merle's desperation became embarrassingly apparent, subtly shooting the debutante a disparaging look, "You must go, of course."

Van looked at her for a moment, slightly bemused, before adding a short, "Indeed."

He made his excuses again, said his goodbyes in good humour, and complimented Merle about four times more before finally leaving the room. Hitomi ignored the way he tried to catch her eye on his exit.

As the door closed to the parlour, Merle flopped down in her chair again.

"Oh, what a burden it is to be so in demand, Hitomi." She sighed, wearily. "These gentlemen are all so tiring."

The governess moved to the window, catching sight of Van as he rounded the corner, out of sight.

"Tell me about it."

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Three nights later, and another party was in full swing. The air was stale, the lemonade was warm and the room was absolutely swarming with eligible bachelors and debutantes alike, as well as, of course, the spinsters and chaperones who were paid to keep an eye on them both. Hitomi sat near the back of the enormous ball room, next to her good friend Liddy, also known as the renowned Widow Damask and veritable queen of upper-class gossip circles. She listened as the large woman reeled off another tragic anecdote, no doubt entrusted to her in confidence.

"Well, it turns out she is _pregnant_, of all things! I heard from a certain source that they are to be married immediately - in secret of course – and are to move to York by the end of the month!" Liddy fanned herself theatrically, "The girl's life is absolutely ruined. Ruined! And all because of one night of passion with one of her own _footmen,_ for goodness' sake!"

Hitomi shrugged, only half listening, "Perhaps it is not entirely ruined, Liddy." She suggested, "After all, they might be in love."

Liddy guffawed in the way that ageing women tend to, "But my dear girl, it is _because _of love that her life is ruined, don't you see?"

The governess squinted in confusion.

"Don't make that face, dear."

Hitomi took a sip of her lemonade, looking out to the dance floor even though hordes of people were blocking her view. "But I don't understand, I… _why_?"

"Well, just think about it," Liddy regarded the dance floor herself, "If it weren't for love, she would never have broken class codes by talking to him in the first place and encouraging him and…well, all the rest." She sighed, "In five years time, she'll look at her life and realise that love is no substitute for security and respect, and then it will be far too late."

"Oh… I see."

The string quartet finished their waltz, as did the partners on the dance floor. Hitomi excused herself briefly and stood to look for Merle during the scattered applause. Her eyes found the debutante standing near the centre of the room, next to a rather dashing nobleman with a crop of chestnut hair. They had obviously just finished dancing with one another.

"Sit down and let her be, girl." Liddy's voice lifted from the nearby chair, "She'll only be this age once, you know."

Hitomi frowned. "That is precisely what worries me."

She eyed her charge warily for a moment before complying with the widow's demand.

"If she runs off with him then I will lay it on your head." She muttered, ignoring Liddy's confident smile.

"If she runs off with him then it will be nobody else's fault but her own, child."

Hitomi turned to her, smiling slightly, "Well, let's hope her father will see it that way. And all her other would-be suitors, at that."

The widow laughed lightly, "I'm surprised you're still bothering to keep count of them." She eyed the young governess for a moment, dropping her voice, "Especially since the Viscount Fanel has made his intentions clear with you."

Hitomi froze. Her heart had either stopped beating altogether, or it was beating so fast she couldn't actually tell. Whatever it was doing, it seemed to have lurched anxiously into her mouth. She stammered into action.

"I-I-I… I don't…" She cleared her throat, willing her nerves under control. "I don't quite u-understand your... " She struggled. Did Liddy _know _what had happened between her and the Viscount? But _how_? And what did she mean by 'intentions'?

The widow raised an eyebrow, obviously confused by Hitomi's reaction.

"My dear, I was merely referring to the visit he made to the Rogers' residence today. I assume he intends to court her with your permission, for the gesture can be read as nothing else. Why, it is the talk of the _ton_."

She watched suspiciously as Hitomi's tension left her in one swift exhale.

"Oh! Oh, right! Of _course_, well, I—"

Liddy stopped her with an intimidating finger in front of her nose.

"Stop right there." She ordered, "What on earth did you think I meant?" Her chubby face neared, "What are you hiding?"

Hitomi bit her lip.

"I-I'm not—"

"Lord Fanel!"

A voice rang out near them, high and pleasant. Liddy's head turned, and Hitomi thanked god for the interruption. She then retracted the thanks when she realised to whom the name belonged.

The crush parted just enough for her to make out Millerna Aston, bedecked in finery from her latest benefactor (who's name she could not recall), attracting the Viscount's attention, rather loudly, from across the room. Hitomi swallowed as she watched him approach.

Van, looking as piratical and charming as ever, took Millerna's hand, brushing a light kiss over the knuckles as he smiled slyly up at her. Hitomi suspected their relationship had, at one point, been fairly… personal. Perhaps it still was.

Liddy made a dissatisfied noise beside her. "I say your charge can do much better than that awful rake."

Hitomi tried not to agree outwardly with as much vigour as she did mentally.

"I would say that was a fair statement." She ended up saying, a little too calmly.

"He is devilishly handsome though…" Liddy acquiesced, lightly. "Dangerously so." She regarded Hitomi out of the corner of her eye, watching as the governess watched the Viscount, biting her lip. A tell, to be sure. "Would you not agree?" She nudged verbally.

Hitomi turned to her quickly and blinked several times. She then glanced back to where Van stood, and then out onto the dance floor to avoid eye contact with either of them.

"I… I couldn't possibly say." She mumbled hastily, longing to change the subject, though her gaze strayed back to him treacherously. She noticed a tall blonde man, the same build and height as the Viscount, standing with him at Millerna's side. Perfect.

Hitomi cleared her throat. "Who is that man standing with Lady Aston?"

Liddy flashed her a look she could not interpret, before continuing to fan herself gently. "That, my dear girl, is Charles Aston. Heir to the Duke of Ferthing. 'Chid' to his friends."

"Millerna's younger brother?"

"Indeed. Known to be one of those introverted sorts, you know. He's only seen socialising with the Viscount, and rarely at that."

Hitomi frowned, grateful that her self-indulgent friend had taken the bait. "That's odd, for a Lord."

Liddy sighed, "Well, rumour has it that he hates having women fawning over him – strange man. Supposedly he was to be married three years ago, to a childhood sweetheart apparently, but his fiancée died shortly before the wedding."

"Oh, that's awful."

"It was. I heard it was a riding accident. Clearly he still blames himself."

Hitomi watched Lord Aston as he looked mutely around the room, obviously not interested in the conversation between his sister and the Viscount.

"How can you tell?" She asked after a moment.

Liddy sighed again, "Oh, darling, he's screaming it silently. It's all in his eyes."

Hitomi continued to watch him as those eyes searched the crush impassively. When they landed on her, she blinked in shock and turned back to Liddy, who was taking a sip of champagne.

"So how does he know the Viscount?"

Somehow she knew Liddy would know the details.

The Widow regarded the pair before answering, "Boyhood friends. Practically brothers. It was common knowledge that Chid was the only person the Viscount would speak to after the death of his older brother several years ago."

Hitomi's heart ached with shock. Van had had a brother?

"Gosh…" Was all she managed to get out.

In truth, her mind was suddenly filled with hundreds of questions. Moreover, she was herself filled with concern for the Viscount, though she did not understand why. Perhaps it was just in her nature to be sympathetic to others. Death was always such a terrible, damaging thing. She was tempted to ask Liddy more, however, she did not feel comfortable blatantly prying into other people's private lives… that is, anymore than she already had done. Unfortunately, Liddy shared no similar motive.

"Fanel ran away to America afterwards."

"America?!"

"Mm. Chid followed, naturally. Convinced him to come back." Liddy took another sip from her glass, effectively draining it. "I hear they recently went into some kind of business together."

Suddenly, Hitomi's thoughts rushed back to her first meeting with the Viscount.

"Tobacco." She realised quietly, mouthing to herself, "…those cigarettes…"

"You must speak up child; I can't hear a word you're saying."

Hitomi cleared her throat, thinking quickly. "I said I shall go to refresh your glass, Liddy."

The widow smiled, "No, you didn't. But I'll let you off because I happen to be thirsty." Hitomi opened her mouth to protest, but Liddy simply pointed towards the drinks table, "Go on." She ordered.

Hitomi complied.

As she forced her way through the crush, her mind reeled over the new information that had been crammed into it. Van was not an only child. Or at least, hadn't always been. Hitomi knew of people who had lost a sibling, and had watched as they had either gone on with their lives or slowly destroyed themselves, mentally amongst other things. She hoped Van did not intend to go about the latter, though his impulsive, erratic behaviour was not encouraging to this end. She sighed, squeezing through several more people before she was within an arm's width of the drinks table. Again, she wondered what the Viscount could possibly see in her to be concerned with her so; he could kiss any girl he liked, and did so on a regular basis. So why _her_? Why did he show up to her residence, claiming to visit Merle when she _knew _it was simply a gesture to antagonise her; to _tease_. He had ignored her completely after Merle had arrived, and Hitomi had sensed that to be some sort of… victory dance on his behalf. It was as if, as he grinned across the room at her when Merle had not been looking, he was proving the power he had over women, over Merle. Over her. And even if their heated debate on matters of Shakespeare had been exhilarating and wonderfully unexpected, she had the feeling it had been some sort of act; a show he put on that she could not decipher. Did he genuinely take interest in what she had said? Was he impressed? Appalled? Amused?

Well, enough was enough. The next chance she got, she would confront him, ask him, _demand_ from him the truth.

_What did he want from her?_

Unfortunately, the next chance she got was rather too soon.

As she reached for a glass of champagne, a familiar voice tugged on her senses.

"Miss Kanzaki. What an unexpected pleasure this is."

She turned without picking up the drink, and was greeted with the sight of the Viscount, extremely close to her, in all his evening glory. Interestingly, though his clothes were incredibly well tailored, she immediately noticed how his hair seemed to have forgone any such grooming. She was somewhat startled by an almost uncontainable urge to run her fingers through it when another stray ebony lock fell across his forehead. She dropped her hands to her side quickly.

"My Lord." She nodded curtly, making a move to leave before anybody had the chance to see them talking so close to one another. Fortunately, the crush was so dense it was highly doubtful you would even be able to see the _door_, were it an arm's-width away. Unfortunately, this somewhat hindered her plans for a swift escape.

Van watched the attempt with a lazy smile, not reaching out to stop her as she pushed meekly at the wall of silk and frills next to them. When she finally had room to manoeuvre away, he simply touched her shoulder subtly from behind.

"Meet me by the staircase in ten minutes." He muttered, low and soft near her ear.

Hitomi froze, then reddened, and then practically barged her way through the sea of bodies in front of her in order to get away. When she finally returned to where Liddy sat, she felt as if she'd run a mile, as opposed to the dozen metres or so she had all but shoved through. She fought the urge to collapse in her chair as she sat down, exhaling a large sigh. Liddy stopped fanning herself in order to fix her with a disparaging raise of her brow.

"You didn't get me a drink."

Hitomi blinked at the flushed, aggravated widow before remembering her excuse for leaving in the first place.

"O-Oh, well… you see, they didn't have anymore champagne and, well, I know how you hate lemonade…"

She swallowed, her gaze straying to where the Viscount stood.

"I'll have to go back and check… i-in ten minutes or so."

Whether she wanted to or not.

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Van's smile fell as he watched the governess fight her way through the crush. He had not intended to propose they meet alone that evening, but something had possessed him to ask. Though he was loathe to admit it, he had left the Rogers' townhouse thoroughly frustrated three days beforehand. He had been clumsy, letting his guard down with her as they'd argued. He had found himself wanting, anxious to kiss her again, watching her lips purse and pout sweetly as she'd talked so passionately about literature. But Chid be damned, he was going to prove that she was no different to the others he had seduced. Even if he had felt a sharp pang of… _something_ when she'd denied his kiss.

Fifteen minutes later, he excused himself from company and headed for the exit, leading to the stairs. As he advanced elegantly through the crowd, stopping here and there to socialise with an acquaintance or two, he wondered what it was he would actually _say_ to the governess. He hadn't really thought past getting her alone again and, well… kissing her senseless.

Catching the direction of his thoughts, he gave himself a mental shake.

He left the room, rounding the corner to the stairs. She was there, standing by the banister, looking nervously at the wall in front of her. Giving the area a quick scan himself, he approached where she stood slowly. Their gazes caught and tangled.

The governess swallowed. "You're late."

Van took her hand from her side wordlessly, raising her fingertips to his lips as he had done to both Merle and Millerna. His lips touched her cool bare skin, for it seemed she had forgotten to wear gloves, and brushed softly over her knuckles. The gesture, usually his way of putting a woman at ease, seemed to do the exact opposite to her. He felt her hand shake slightly. His eyes remained locked with hers, heated and dark.

"My apologies."

He couldn't help smiling faintly as a bloom of colour lit her cheeks. After a moment, she seemed to clear her head, extracting her hand from his, hastily.

"My Lord, I… I must talk with you." She said, quickly. "Is there some place we might speak privately?"

Van blinked at her frankness.

"Of course." He looked around briefly, "There's a room over there."

Walking to the closed door, he hoped it was unoccupied. He turned the handle; the door swung open to reveal a private study. Dark, save for the moonlight streaming in from the garden window. Empty. Walking in, he beckoned the governess from behind him.

"Come on. You should be used to marching into other men's libraries by now."

Hitomi closed the door behind them. "That is not funny."

He walked over to the desk by the window, leaning back on it and stretching his legs before him. "You'll see the humour some day."

The governess frowned. "I highly doubt it."

Silence stretched between them. He watched her, standing in the moonlight as it draped the room in icy monochrome, suddenly overcome with the urge to just… look at her. Knowing she could not follow the movement of his eyes in the darkness, he couldn't help himself. Though she was certainly not the most beautiful woman he had ever seen, she seemed to have the fine, elegant features which many girls envied. In the light of the moon, they seemed defined, almost regal. Her figure, though hidden by an ill-fitted dress, was a little more slender than he usually liked, though he suspected her legs were—

"Why did you tell me to meet you, my Lord?" She interrupted his lascivious train of thought.

Van cleared his throat, "Well firstly, what is so urgent that you've had to invade a man's personal study." He raised an eyebrow, "Again."

The governess clasped her hands in front of her, blinking a few times and pursing her lips, oblivious to his humour. She looked to the floor.

"Well I…I felt we should discuss—"

"Only, I would have thought you'd have mentioned something about this three days ago, sweetheart. It would probably have been slightly easier, since we were alone already in your parlour." He smiled wickedly, watching her body tense in the semi-darkness. "And you of all people should know that it is hardly proper for a lady to have a private rendezvous with a notorious rake such as myself."

He narrowed his eyes when he saw her swallow again. It seemed she was gathering her courage for something.

She looked up at him finally, biting her lip in a way that made his pulse kick a beat, much to his confusion.

"Please just let me talk." She requested, her eyes wide in earnest, "Let me talk and say what I must, and then you can make your silly, unhelpful comments until you're hoarse for all I care."

Her frustration made him frown, "No need to get snappy, chick."

Much to his dismay however, the would-be comforting remark only served to exacerbate her ire. Her eyes flashed dangerously as she brought her chin up in defiance.

"Well, _pardon me_ for saying so," her hands flew to grip her waist, missishly, "but I'm afraid there is a great deal to be snappy about!"

Van raised a questioning eyebrow, pleased by her sudden boost in resolve.

"Pray tell." He drawled, his tone purposefully insolent.

He was still too confused over their spontaneous meeting to actually remember what part he was supposed to be playing with the opinionated governess. Roughly, he recalled his plan to coax her into a false engagement, but had not precisely considered any more tactics past getting her into his bed.

After all, she should not, he figured, need much more convincing after that.

But the matter at hand begged his immediate attention, and that was how in hell he was going to get her there when she was so bloody furious at him. Perhaps he should try to kiss her again; that usually silenced her for a moment or two.

He ignored the part of himself that urged there were many more reasons to kiss her.

Hitomi frowned, completely unaware of his train of thought.

"Well, my Lord—"

"_Van_." He corrected, absently, still thinking.

The governess looked at him warily, "I would rather not refer to you as if we are friends, my Lord."

Van blinked and looked up at her.

"But we _are _friends, chick." He shrugged, a lazy smile reappearing on his face, "In fact, some people might say we're more than—"

"Well then _some people _are completely raving mad, because we are most certainly not friends!" She barked, talking over his attempt to remind her of the particulars of their complex relationship. Well…perhaps complex was an overstatement.

He sighed.

"Hitomi, let's n—"

The governess tutted angrily, "For heaven's sake, have you no shame, Sir?! Do you not recollect that I _just said _not to—"

"No, sweetheart, you just said that you wouldn't call _me _by my given name; you made no rules whatsoever about how I am to refer—"

"Oh, will you just stop being such an insufferable _ass_ and let me _talk_!"

The Viscount bit back a snort at her rather festive cursing. He rolled his eyes when she simply stared at him, obviously waiting for another witty retort.

"Well go on then." He waved an impatient hand, prompting whatever speech she was so set on making.

Hitomi pursed her lips.

"Right." She said, smoothing her skirts in preparation, "I shall get to the crux of the matter then."

Van crossed his arms again, raising an eyebrow.

The governess took a steadying breath.

"The first time we met, I thought you were an arrogant scoundrel."

"Always a good start." He muttered, bracing himself as she continued.

"Unfortunately, I can see that my assertion in that respect was completely right. You are conceited, your behaviour is often inappropriate and crude, your… _flattery_ leaves a lot to be desired, and you… you are entirely untrustworthy, so I ask you—"

Van frowned at the veritable barrage of accusations.

"Now just wait a moment" He interrupted, defensive for reasons he did not have time to think about, "I can understand some of these remarks, Miss Kanzaki, indeed, I agree with most of them - but 'untrustworthy'?" He demanded, pushing off the edge of the desk, "I cannot let that—"

"Oh no," Hitomi took a step towards him, shaking an accusing finger in his face, her eyes wide, "No, no, don't even _attempt _to say that I have no reason not to trust you! You've—"

"Oh come on—"

"—taken advantage of me every time we've met, Sir!" She spoke over him, her finger still unapologetically waving in front of his nose, "And don't deny—"

"For heaven's sake—"

"—that you have absolutely no honourable intent—"

"Will you _desist, _woman!" Van grabbed her wrist firmly, stilling it, trying not to notice how small and delicate it felt under his fingers, "I am not a child you are scolding!"

Any other prudish miss would have winced, would simply have apologised and crept away in submission…but the governess just glared at him after recovering from the initial shock of the movement, her heated gaze mimicking his own.

She raised her chin, holding firm.

"I am fully aware that you are a grown man, my Lord."

Something in her tone, now ominously self-assured, suddenly made his blood heat. Without consciously willing it to do so, his mind conjured images of her from the night they had kissed on the terrace, her cheeks flushed, her lips swollen and damp from the ardent pressure of his.

And it wasn't until he caught himself staring at those lips that he realised he'd pulled her closer whilst seizing her wrist. He eased his grip on it as his eyes caught hers again.

"I never took advantage." He said, softly.

The governess shook her head slightly, "But—"

"When?" He demanded, smoothly, his face betraying nothing of his own thoughts.

"When?!" She mimicked, outraged, "You… when you _kissed_ me, _that's_ when!" Her shout filled the small, dark room, "You kissed me _three times _and I… I don't even know you!"

Van stared at her a moment.

"No, I didn't."

Hitomi let out a cry of exasperation.

"Yes, you did!"

"No, I—"

She struggled in his grip, "Do not feign such ignorance, Sir! We both know that—"

"It was only twice."

"—you can remember p— …what?"

The Viscount smiled slightly, "We only kissed twice, sweetheart."

Frowning, the governess opened her mouth, shaking her head, obviously preparing to rebuke his correction.

"I think you'll find that it most certainly—"

Van rolled his eyes.

The little squeak of shock she made as his lips found hers almost made him smile, and he held firm as she attempted to struggle away from the grip he still kept on her wrist. He was gentle, of course, but she didn't seem too keen on letting him ease her tension, the stubborn chit.

She made another maddened sound against his lips, her free hand coming up to push at his chest. However, much to her dismay, he took the opportunity to pull her closer, his own free arm snaking round her back and essentially trapping her against him.

After several moments more of struggle, she finally managed to tear her mouth from his (though their bodies stayed perilously locked), her breath coming in warm little bursts against his face, her eyes burning. She scowled at him as he shrugged, smiling wickedly.

"Now it's three."

Hitomi looked as if she were about to strangle him.

She moved suddenly, making a noise of exasperated outrage that betrayed a temper he'd known she had possessed under the exterior of propriety.

"Eugh!" Wrenching herself from his hold, she pushed him so hard that his legs actually bumped the edge of the desk behind him, "Will you _stop _being such an intolerable _cad_!"

Van brought his arms up defensively, "You were the one who seemed so intent on the mathematics, sweetheart; I simply balanced the sums."

The governess threw her arms up in vexation, shaking her head in desperation, in defeat. When she put her head in her hands, the Viscount actually began to regret his decision to purposefully antagonize her. He heard her mumble something incomprehensibly through her fingertips.

"What was that?" He asked, taking a step towards her slumped form.

She looked up at him, and he was rather disheartened to see the unmasked pain in her eyes.

The governess looked, quite simply, at a loss. The atmosphere in the room suddenly became heavy with tension.

"What do you want from me?" She repeated, quietly.

Van blinked.

"Is it Merle?" She asked, her eyes almost pleading for some kind of answer, "Do you want to make her jealous? Is that it?" Her hands fell limply to her sides, brushing her full skirts, "Do you want something from her? From her father?"

The Viscount shook his head, his eyes narrowing, "What on earth do you— I don't—"

"Do you plan to tell everyone about what's happened between us?" She continued, not even listening to his forged excuses, becoming more and more upset. "To feed the gossipers their daily chunk of meat? Did you want to embarrass me further than you already have? To embarrass Merle?! Or did you just want a cheap laugh, _Van_?!" She enunciated his name furiously in response to him using hers so freely.

"Don't be ridiculous." His features hardened.

Still, Hitomi continued, closing the space between them, her rage making his heart beat an intense staccato.

"Oh, I'm not the one being ridiculous here. What am I _supposed_ to think?! Someone like _you _taking interest in someone like _me_?" She smiled mirthlessly, "No, Van. It's not _me _being ridiculous. It's _you_. For thinking you could get away with it."

Van's gaze bored into her, silently. But she didn't flinch. She didn't even blink.

"I don't know who you think you are," She continued quietly, more intense, more passionate than he had ever heard her, "…or what you may think you are entitled to because you _assume_ that you've experienced more pain and anguish than me or anybody else… but…" Her eyes shone in the moonlight, "But trust me when I say that it does not give you good enough reason to play _games _with people as if they are brainless _toys_! I… _you _have…" She searched for the right words. After a moment of exasperated silence, she found them.

"You have used hundreds of women, Van. You charm them, sleep with them, _use_ them and then throw them away because, although they give you some sordid manipulation of fickle comfort, you know they can never give you what you _really _want."

The sound of passing footsteps drifted under the door, echoing crisply into the darkness.

"And what is that?" The question left him, hoarse, barely his own voice.

Hitomi shook her head. The footsteps died away, plunging their world into silence again.

"_Love_, Van." Her eyes glittered, liquid mercury in the moonlight as she accused him. "They cannot give you love, because it is the one thing you long for yet refuse to accept. You would throw a woman's heart away, simply because if she truly gave it to you, you could not bear to lose it. I can see it in the way you treat every one of them; the smile you fake, the bow you execute perfectly, the way you pretend to be interested in discussions about the weather – It's all an act! And nobody would ever know, because you _never_ let your guard down, not for an instant!" She gestured wildly, unable to contain the words any longer. "Your eyes never smile, did you know that? They never show anybody anything other than cool indifference because that is all you allow yourself to feel!"

His silence was ominous. After a moment, she gave up trying to make her point. He obviously just wasn't listening. She sighed.

"Some say you are a rogue, Sir. A womaniser, a villain. But I?" Her voice dropped. "I say you are just a coward."

She waited for his rebuke. She waited for his mockery and laughter, his casual comment that made light of the situation. But instead, he simply looked at her in the darkness, his eyes deep, concentrated, his face devoid of emotion.

And then…

"Go."

Hitomi's eyes widened. She flinched, as if she had just awakened from a dream. His voice was barely more than a whisper, but the tone within it held so much emotion and inner turmoil that she was tempted to apologise.

But it was too late for that now.

It was far too late.

-

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* * *

**Aaaaaah!!! **

**What's gonna go DOWWWN at the Fanel houseparty that HITOMI IS STILL INVITED TO?!!!!**

**I suppose you'll just have to wait and see, won't you. **

**If you've read this absolute drivel, please review it. And if you don't want to review the chapter particularly, you can just insult Oxford university - that'll make me just as happy. :D**

**I'M NOT BITTER AT ALL, WHAT ARE YOU TALKING ABOUT?!!?**

**Toodles :P  
**


	5. Chapter 5

_Before I say anything, let me just say, HAPPY BIRTHDAY, SUITOR! Writing this over the past year has really been such a comfort to me for several reasons. As I've already said, I write to escape, and escape I truly have. Whether or not that bodes well for my coming exams... we'll have to see. Anyway, thank you, dear reader, for making all of this possible. Here's to another year of 1830's romantic drivel! I can only hope it gets better :)_

**A/N: ****Well. It's been a good long while, hasn't it. Instead of giving some long-winded explanation, I'll provide you with my excuses in their short form: College, boys, boys, college, college, death, college, money, college, work, boys, boys, college, exams. boys. **

**RIGHT. So, now that's all over and done with, here I am! Thanks to everyone for such a great response to my oxford failure - you're all lovely lovely people :)  
**

**Regarding this chapter, I made it especially long to make up for lost time. I'm not happy with it at all, but I thought I should just, you know... GO FOR IT, as they say. May be a tad confusing, I don't know, but I couldn't stand the sight of it anymore so if you have any burning questions then just let me know, okies? NICE.  
**

**Well, enjoy! (And any French readers out there, please excuse any shameful grammatical errors.)  
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"Quelle chance! Mon fils est devenu une statue."

Van blinked and looked around at the sound of his mother's lilting French, raising an eyebrow at her playful expression before turning back to stare at the rain pelting on the window.

"Quelle chance." He repeated, mirthlessly, crossing his arms.

Varie sighed from the other side of the room.

"Chéri, you have been like this for days now." She approached him, switching easily from her native tongue into an English accent that was so flawless you'd never have guessed she was an émigré. Her tone mimicked the worry in her bright eyes. "Tell me what's wrong…" She placed a hand on the shoulder of his fine-tailored jacket, adding a soft, "Please?"

Van remained silent for a long moment before exhaling loudly.

"I'm fine." He rewarded her with a brief smile, utterly forced from the depths of his terrible mood. He hated upsetting his mother.

But in reality he was not "fine". In reality, his thoughts were as heavy and dark as the rainclouds that had covered their country estate for the past week. In reality, he had ceased to be "fine" a long time ago. Her eyes disbelieving, Varie touched his cheek.

"Well, try to cheer up before the guests arrive, darling." She said, patting it gently, "You'll never find a wife looking so miserable."

Van bit back a derisive snort and continued to stare out onto the drive as his mother left the room. The carriages would begin arriving in a short while, and in all honesty he could not bear the thought. He didn't think he'd ever dreaded a party quite so much. Dozens of unmarried chits vying for his attentions every which-way, flirting and making shameless suggestions towards him would have otherwise made for an entertaining few days. But it seemed to him already that he would not be so easily entertained this time. Something within him had resigned itself to the fact that women were dull, mindless things who could no better amuse him than a particularly dry slice of cake, and he was quite sure that nothing could change his mind. Nothing and nobody.

Not even one, highly opinionated, governess.

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"Hitomi? Hitomi dear, are you sure you're quite alright?"

The carriage lurched again, causing both travellers to grasp the plush seating beneath their fingertips with vice-like intensity. Unfortunately, the hasty action did not stop them from pitching forward, yet again, in a violently uncomfortable fashion.

"Quite." The governess bit out when she was seated once more, her complexion turning ever-more green.

"You're sure?" Merle asked, edging away discreetly on the opposite bench.

Knowing not how she managed such an impossible feat, Hitomi forced a smile, her teeth gritting.

_No I am not sure. In fact, I am not at all sure why on earth I agreed to come on this ridiculous carriage ride to this ridiculous house party in the middle of this ridiculous rainstorm!_

"Quite sure."

Thunder from outside seemed to shake the earth they rode on. Hitomi winced, biting her lip to keep herself from swearing colourfully. They had been travelling for nigh on five hours now, and although their spacious carriage was luxuriously upholstered in velvet (adorned with ridiculous tassels which swung with the coach's sporadic movements), it was absolutely freezing, surprisingly claustrophobic and, most unfortunately for Hitomi, the ride was very, very bumpy. She clutched her stomach as she felt another inevitable wave of nausea. Merle's expression did nothing to conceal her distaste.

"Perhaps… er, perhaps we should stop by the side of the road so you may…" The debutante made an ambiguous gesture with her hands, "er… eject your—"

"I'm perfectly fine, Merle." Hitomi interrupted the girl's babbling, "I simply—"

The coach hit a particularly jarring bump, sending its occupants up into the air for a brief moment. The hand that was on Hitomi's stomach shot to cover her mouth. The familiar, uncomfortable, empty sensation at the back of her throat was warning enough that her lunch was about to come tumbling forth; without invitation.

"Merle, stop the carriage." She hissed out through the gaps between her fingers.

"Wha—"

"I must— …stop the carriage now please." She said, slowly, her eyes closed in an effort to simply try to concentrate her impending sickness away. Bile rose in her throat as her stomach churned.

"But… wait, no— I wasn't— you can't go out there!" Merle, oblivious to how close her chaperone was to ruining her finest dress, protested, "It's raining! You'll get—"

"I-don't-care-now-will-you-please-just-stop-the-coach-and-open-the-door-because-otherwise-I-swear-to-god-I'm-about-to-expel-my-lunch-all-over-you." The words leapt out of Hitomi's mouth as briefly and sharply as she could manage before she closed it again.

"But you'll—"

"_Now!_"

Horrifed, the debutante rapped on the ceiling and instructed the driver to stop. Hitomi shot out of the door the moment they had come to a halt. Rain beat down on her head, plastering it to her face, and her feet sank into the mud, but she barely noticed. She ran to the road's edge and, in the nick of time, hauled her already sodden skirts out of the way.

Several minutes later, exhausted and, frankly, appalled at the lack control she had over her digestive system, she returned to the carriage; without her lunch. Merle's expression was one of terror as the governess stepped inside, soaked to the skin and white as a sheet.

"Carry on." Hitomi said rather pathetically as she knocked on the ceiling, a sign for the driver to continue their journey. She was launched into her seat as the carriage jostled to a start. Merle swallowed.

"Are you alright?" She asked, idiotically, after a moment.

Hitomi closed her eyes.

"Quite."

Another thunderous boom rumbled in the distance before a streak of lightning cracked the air. She shivered, and wondered how the day could possibly get any worse.

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"What do you _mean_ "it fell off"?!"

The driver, a rather simple man they had hired (whose personal hygiene left much to be desired), scratched the back of his (probably filthy) neck in sheepish response to the governess' enraged countenance.

"I _mean_ it must of fell off on them bumpy tracks a while back." He shrugged, "Guess I mustn't of tied it on as well I thought I did."

It had stopped raining briefly, though the clouds overhead loomed ever-darker, and presently they had arrived at the magnificent Fanel country estate and were in the process of unloading the coach. Unfortunately, they'd hit a snag. Whereas Merle's bags were in perfect condition (if a little wet) and all accounted for, the one that Hitomi had packed for herself was nowhere to be seen.

"Well what am I supposed to do without _clothes_ for the next three days?!"

The driver just shrugged again. He'd walked away before Hitomi had the good sense to throttle him, leaving her alone to deal with the loss of her only suitcase. Sodden and practically dripping wet as she still was, the thought of having to greet the Viscount, and worse, his mother, in such a state of dress was not a scene she wanted to even consider. She had hoped to change quickly inside the carriage once they'd arrived and had unloaded their suitcases, but unfortunately, fate, not to mention God, seemed intent on making her life a living hell, today of all days. She raised her fingers to her temples, where the tension had built up to an absurdly high degree, and frowned. She looked and felt bedraggled and hideous, her shoes and hem were caked in mud even though she'd tried desperately to scrape it off during the rest of their journey, and her dress was sticking to her in such an uncomfortable fashion that she was tempted to just rip the damned thing off and be done with it. Merle approached her, giving her a once-over before her face creased in laughter.

"Oh, Hitomi!" She giggled, "You _do_ look funny! Rather like a drowned cat!"

Hitomi scowled.

"Thankyou." She bit out, her jaw clenched. Naturally, Merle looked perfect and miraculously unruffled, considering the long journey they'd just been jostled through. Hitomi sighed, gesturing to the entrance. "Shall we get this over with?"

Merle was still chuckling as she nodded her assent and walked ahead.

"Please don't let him greet us, please don't let him greet us…" The governess chanted beneath her breath as she followed close behind her charge. But even distracted as she was, walking up the gravelled drive, she couldn't help but take in the sheer magnificence of the place. The front side of the manor alone was incredible, its enormous face covered with tangles of ivy and flowers she could not name. The grounds (what she could see of them anyway) were vast and richly textured with trees and yet more flowers and, from what she'd heard, there was even a lake somewhere. She wondered how long ago the estate had been built, and expected the inside to be just as stunning as the out, if not more so. It was at this point she also wondered whether she would even be allowed to see it in her current, sorry state.

They stopped in front of the ominously large oak panelled doors, and Hitomi steeled herself for the torture that was about to ensue, within the next few minutes as well as over the entirety of the next three days. She hadn't seen the Viscount for almost a fortnight, not since she had… _expressed_ herself to him in the library of a London townhouse.

"_**Go."**_

The memory of the subdued, menacing order still rang inside her head, still made her wince as she had done when he'd uttered the word. Even if she had absolutely meant everything she had accused him of, she realised shortly after the incident that she had perhaps spoken a _little_ too freely with him. She had worked herself up into a frenzy over his façade of insolence and the blithe attitude he exhibited towards women and life and… her, and her tongue had simply not been able to remain still. Before she could stop herself she had said everything, _everything _she'd been thinking since she'd met him. She'd listed his resounding flaws in those few short minutes, and had shocked herself in doing so. But in all honesty, the most striking thing about the whole experience had been his reaction; he appeared to have taken her words seriously, for what they were, for what they truly meant. He had actually listened to her _- really_ listened. For the first time. The result had been fairly… _startling_. Upon further reflection the following day, she thought she may have even felt a twinge of remorse somewhere in the pit of her stomach; however, she had soon dismissed it for hunger and had simply eaten a biscuit instead. Two more cups of tea and three more biscuits later, and the twinge had still remained. In fact, it remained to this day.

But apologise, she would not. Never. And she doubted he would either so… that was that. They would stay out of each other's way for the next three days (not to mention the following months and years) and hope that one day they may come to forget what had occurred between them. It was all they could do. It was all _she_ could do.

Unfortunately, fate - _wonderful_ fate - had other plans.

It always did.

The doors opened before Merle could even raise her hand to knock, and Hitomi could not stop the ungraceful drop of her jaw as the footmen stood back to reveal the entrance hall. It was magnificent. Magnificent and _huge. _Enormous. Portraits of various ancestors and heroes practically covered the vast walls, dreamy landscapes orderly dotted in between their sombre glances. But it was the grand staircase, with banisters of beautiful mahogany that shone with freshly polished splendour, which were by far the most breathtaking sight to behold, even in the gloomy light filtering through the windows high above them. Splitting on the central landing to the two separate wings of the mansion, the stairway was obviously the crowning glory of the entrance hall. It was all just so… overwhelming, and they hadn't even walked in yet.

"I see that the best has truly been saved for last."

His voice echoed through the space, bouncing off the walls and through Hitomi's brain with aggravating clarity. Her eyes darted to his figure at the foot of the staircase, her heart suddenly jerking painfully, awkwardly within her chest. She blinked and turned her gaze to the marble floor as he approached, hating herself for the heat that flashed through her veins. Merle began to giggle and walked to him, grinning with girlish charm.

"Oh, how splendid this is, my lord!" She gushed, childishly, "How delightfully splendid!"

The Viscount smiled and took hold of one of her outstretched hands before bending to kiss it lightly. Hitomi's eyes strayed to the gesture from where she stood (still between the two doormen) and attempted to block the memory of those same lips skimming over _her _hand. And over her—

"More guests!"

Lady Fanel's melodious voice practically sang through the vastness of the entrance hall. Hitomi let out a string of mental curses, glancing down at the dreadful state of her attire again before wishing she could crawl into a large, dark, bottomless hole and stay there for eternity. However, due to the unavailability of such a diverging option, she chose instead to count silently to ten, and hope that nobody would notice her. It usually worked without any effort on her part.

One, two—

"Oh, _mon dieu_!"

Dammit.

Hitomi swore inwardly and looked up, straight into the eyes of a very perplexed Varie Fanel. She had to blink several times before she actually believed that the woman was in fact Van's mother. Indeed, she had known well of the Countess' beauty and elegance before now, and yet none of the descriptions she'd overheard seemed to do the real article justice. The woman just looked so _young_, with expertly curled ebony locks that beheld no white or greying traces, with skin that seemed to radiate the very youth and vitality Hitomi could feel no longer. It was a strange and wonderful thing, to behold the defiance of time in such a way. Giving herself a mental shake, the governess attempted to curtsy, grabbing handfuls of her sodden skirts and smiling pathetically.

"Uh… good afternoon." She said hastily, tucking her now ratty hair behind her rapidly reddening ears, "Please excuse my… my appearance, my Lady, you see I—"

"You poor dear!" The Countess exclaimed, rushing forward past Merle, who seemed at a loss as to why she was being so 'rudely' ignored, "What on Earth—  
What happened?!"

"Well I—"

"Oh, heavens," She talked over Hitomi's garbled explanation (probably a good thing, since the subject matter was hardly delicate), "You'll catch your death! We must get you out of those ruined clothes at once!" A maid seemed to magically appear beside them in an instant.

"Where is your valise, my dear?" She peered over the governess's shoulder and through the open door, to where the carriage remained outside with the bags. Hitomi swallowed as her heart sank further, the awfulness of the situation making her stomach churn. Again.

"I'm afraid I no longer have one, my Lady." She paused for a moment as the Countess' eyes snapped back to hers, blinking steadily. "It… it seems to have fallen from the carriage in the storm."

The Countess frowned slightly before regarding the sopping mess standing in front of her.

"Well…" She appeared to think for a moment, "Well… this will not do at all."

Hitomi fought the urge to cringe with embarrassment and shame.

"I am truly sorry, my Lady, I can—"

"I won't hear of it!" She exclaimed with a flourish, "We cannot have a guest running about all day in rags!"

Hitomi looked down at the floor, wishing she could melt into it.

"You will borrow _my_ clothes!"

Her head snapped up.

"Beg Pardon?!"

But the Countess was already muttering something in rapid French to the maid beside them, smiling for reasons Hitomi could not begin to decipher. Rather shocked (to say the least), the governess looked to Merle, who still stood several feet away with the Viscount, and was rather amused to see the girl's mouth hanging agape, rather akin to the primates in London Zoo. The Countess was generally described to be a fairly eccentric and caring woman, but Hitomi had never before heard of such clearly manic generosity. She stuttered over etiquette.

"But, my Lady, I-I couldn't _possibly_—"

Varie turned to her, her smile replaced with an expression that could only be described as maternal.

"And what else do you suggest, my dear? Hm? That I let you catch a fever?"

Hitomi shook her head wildly, "N-No, but—"

"Well then it is settled, is it not?" She smiled again, a bright, radiant smile that must have captured the hearts of every young man in Paris (and London no doubt), once upon a time. "Are we not the same height?" She brought a hand up to the top of Hitomi's head before sliding it through the air to touch her own. She nodded, obviously decided upon their seemingly 'identical' measurements.

"You will borrow my clothes. Alors, Annette?"

The maid beside them curtsied to Hitomi before listening intently to the orders she was about to receive.

"Trouvez mes vêtements anciennes, Annette. Tu sais… euh… les robes que j'ai portées à Paris quand j'étais plus jeune… et moins grosse. Mais seulement les plus belles, d'accord ?"

"Oui, Madame." She curtsied again.

"Bien." The Countess clapped her hands together, turning back to Hitomi. "Now, take Miss…?" She looked expectantly at the governess.

"Oh!" Hitomi blinked, mortified at the realisation that she hadn't actually introduced herself, "Kanzaki. Hitomi Kanzaki."

"How wonderfully exotic!" Varie exclaimed, beaming, before turning back to Annette, "Take Miss Kanzaki to her room, please, and show her where everything is."

The maid bobbed a curtsy towards Lady Fanel before nodding to Hitomi, who duly followed her, smiling her thanks to the Countess. She walked past Merle, whose jaw still hung open, and could do nothing but shrug her own confusion. Then, quite accidentally, her eyes darted to the Viscount, who hadn't said a word to her in all this, only to find he was looking elsewhere, purposefully acting as if she did not exist. Well, it suited her, she told herself. She just hoped he would continue to do so for the remainder of her time there… and ignored the whisper in her heart that wished he would smile at her again.

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"All I'm saying is that it is _frightfully _unfair, Hitomi, and _frightfully _improper for you to be wearing the Countess' clothing." Merle berated as they descended the grand staircase together, sometime later, on their way to a dining room that was undoubtedly going to be the size of a small castle.

"I didn't _ask _to wear her clothing." Hitomi defended, quietly. In all honesty though, she agreed with Merle wholeheartedly. It was bizarre, surreal and… slightly ridiculous that the Countess had even offered. Governesses did not share clothing with Countesses. You did not need to be a genius to know such a thing. Merle gave her dress a haughty once-over.

"Green is not your colour." She said with a scowl. Hitomi brushed the insult away with a grim smile. She had thought, as she'd regarded her reflection in the privacy of her own guest-room earlier, that the dress was beautiful in an understated sort of way. It did cling to her rather tightly, and the neckline was rather too low for her comfort, but the silk of the fabric was glorious against her skin, and she had thought the shade of green a perfect match for her eyes. But… perhaps she had been wrong after all. Merle had always had a keen eye for style. She knew a fashion faux pas when she saw one.

They walked in silence until they came to the foyer, where the crowd of guests had gathered. Hitomi was slightly surprised to only see about twenty other visitors, rather than the "hundred or so" that the Viscount had anticipated. She guessed the poor weather must have had something to do with it, since the storm was raging outside once more, as relentless as the voice in her head screaming at her to go home. As they neared the others, she began to spot faces she recognised in the crowd. Her eyes were immediately drawn to Millerna Aston, surrounded by practically all of the available gentlemen in the room, a woman she knew to be shallow and calculating, but stunningly beautiful and elegant as if to balance out such hideous attributes. Her blonde hair shone in the candlelight, masterfully arranged in an intricate mass upon her head. She giggled at something, her eyes cold and unamused.

Merle soon released her arm as they approached the small group, obviously not wishing to be seen with such an unfashionable companion. And so Hitomi was left to drift and wander and sit alone once again, as she did every party, every dinner. Every day. Generally, the tradition at such events was for everybody to wait in the foyer until the hostess or host entered; at this point, the highest ranking man in the room would escort the highest ranking lady to dinner, and others would follow suit. Such was the etiquette of the upper-classes. Unfortunately, this meant that there were an indiscernible number of minutes until the Countess' arrival, and thus Hitomi grew uneasy at the thought she would have to bear this torture for more than a quarter of an hour.

She stood with her hands loosely clasped in front of her near the foot of the staircase, looking awkward and rather lost, and was just about to edge her way to a shadowed corner when her eyes caught sight of somebody else she recognised. Charles, or Chid Aston as he was better known, was standing not ten feet away and seemed to be… well, staring straight at her. She blinked a few times, looking behind her to ensure it was in fact she he was studying so intently, before turning back in his direction. She blinked again when she realised he had disappeared.

"I don't believe we've been introduced."

The governess fought the urge to scream in surprise. Her body jolted quite noticeably as a voice she did not recognise uttered the words somewhere near her right ear. She turned to see Lord Aston there, his mouth curving boyishly at her reaction.

"I did not intend to give you a heart attack, my good Lady, but I simply could not stop myself from coming over here to talk to you." He took her gloved hand gently with his own, bringing it to his lips. "You are quite the most beautiful woman in the room." Hitomi stared, wide-eyed, blushing furiously as he placed his cool lips upon the silk.

"You're… Lord Aston." She stated quietly, still rather confused as to what had just happened. Chid smiled.

"Call me Charles."

At that moment, the doors on the other side of the hall opened with the expert flourish of two nearby footmen. The Countess entered, a vision of beauty in an expertly tailored gown of white silk. She smiled at her visitors.

"Friends: let not the damp weather dampen our spirits this fine evening." She gestured to a door on the other side of the foyer, "Let us eat!"

There was a murmur of appreciation from the crowd as Varie approached a man Hitomi did not recognise, taking the arm he proffered before walking towards the dining room. The elusive Viscount Fanel was nowhere to be seen. Not that she cared, of course. Suddenly realising that her new friend would most probably be expected to accompany a high ranking lady to the table, Hitomi looked to Chid, catching him staring at her again. She swallowed, feeling very uncomfortable.

"I… Shouldn't you be finding a lady to escort?"

Chid offered her his arm. "I think I've already found one." He said quietly, his blue eyes glinting in the candlelight.

She reddened again, regarding his arm as if it might gnaw her hand off. She could not possibly be seen to be so familiar with Charles Aston; the gossip would be inescapable. She would not do such a thing to Merle. What is more, she could hardly associate with the closest friend of the man she despised.

"Would you… Would you excuse me? I appear to have lost my appetite."

She moved away from him hastily, not waiting for a response, picking up her skirts as she turned her back to the crowd. Without looking back, she walked briskly down one of the hallways that led away from the foyer, looking for a room to sit in quietly as she waited for Merle. After five minutes of meandering further and further away from the dining room, she walked past an open doorway, inside of which she spotted a pianoforte. A perfect way to pass the time. Halting outside of it, she poked her head round the doorframe. A fire blazed in the hearth on the other side of the room, a large, wingback chair facing towards it, away from her. She hoped it was empty.

"Uh…H-Hello?"

No movement or sound.

Perfect.

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Van stared into the fire, swirling the brandy round and round his glass uninterestedly. He'd drunk far too much of it to make an appearance at dinner. His hair was mussed and his coat lay discarded on the mantelpiece. Only the familiar beat of the rain on the windows accompanied the sharp crackling of the flames and the relentless direction of his thoughts. He sighed.

Why had she come here? Couldn't she have sent someone else with Miss Rogers? Surely something could have been arranged. Anything. Anything that would have meant avoiding seeing him again. Didn't she think him a cad? Incapable of love? A mindless, selfish _coward_?

The word reverberated through his mind, damning him. Damning him as he had damned himself for years.

Never mind though, he convinced himself, numbly. He hadn't acknowledged her since her arrival that afternoon and had absolutely no intention of doing so in the near future, unless it was utterly necessary. The plain fact was: he had nothing to say to her. He wanted nothing to do with the stubborn chit, even if it meant his plan to avoid matrimony was foiled beyond repair. She was far too obstinate and opinionated. Far too dangerous to toy with. It did not matter that he had enjoyed their innocent tryst more than he was willing to admit. It did not matter that part of him still wanted to seduce her, just to see her submit to _him_, just to feel her fall apart in _his _arms. To watch her surrender to the man she so openly despised with all her being.

He banished the misleading thoughts with another swig of brandy.

"Uh… H-Hello?"

At the light, hesitant voice, the glass in Van's hand froze in mid-air, half way to lips that had just parted in surprise. He remained still, silent. Straight away, he knew it was her; His failed conquest.

God, how he hated failure.

Before he had thought of a suitably half-hearted reaction, he heard her enter the room and close the door, obviously convinced of its vacancy. He listened as her quiet, timid footsteps immediately approached where the pianoforte lay open, several yards behind him. She seemed to stop before it, soundless. Without provocation, Van imagined her fingers to be running over the wood softly, feeling the unique rivers of grain which lined the instrument's casing. He quelled the strangely enthralling image by staring harshly into the fire. The stool creaked behind him. Several, lonely notes were drawn into the air as the governess tested the weight of the keys beneath her fingers. Van suppressed the urge to sigh. He should probably have signalled his presence long before now. What was stopping him, he honestly didn't know. Perhaps the memory of how they had last parted was inducing him to let her be. He had been so lost in that moment. So filled with frustrated despair as his past had been dragged unceremoniously before him in her angry, disturbing words. All he had been capable of doing at the time was telling her to leave in one, swift syllable.

Before he could dwell on the matter more, the opening of Beethoven's Moonlight Sonata reached his ears, soft and slow and far too tender and mournful for his current mood. But he stayed still. He listened as the notes rose and fell with crescendos and sombre diminuendos of poignant eloquence. She slowed here and there, a bit too often for his liking, and when it came to the first loud set of bars, she played them far too timidly. He felt a sudden urge to alert her of such sloppiness, but promptly remembered his secret position, as well as his unwillingness to speak to her again. He tolerated her playing, which was not at all bad, if a little cautious (one cannot afford to be cautious when it comes to Beethoven), as he continued to stare into the flames licking at the hearth. Without thinking, he expelled a heavy breath.

The playing stopped immediately, and the stool scraped upon the wooden flooring as it was pushed back, its occupant obviously standing up in haste. Van suppressed the urge to curse. What hearing the woman had! She must have surely been a vampire bat in another lifetime. Perhaps if she hadn't been playing so damned quietly she might not have—

"Wh-Who's there?" Her voice shook with no small amount of fear.

Well, this certainly was not how he had envisaged the evening to evolve. Van placed his brandy glass down on the table beside him tiredly before rising to his feet without much haste. He was impressively steady on them as he turned round, feeling a rush of inebriated heat flow through his veins. In a fairly perverse manner, he relished the stunned look of dread that claimed her features in the firelight as she saw him, darkly amused by his affect on her. God, he could taste the hate wafting through the room, it was so heavy, so tangible.

"Good evening, my Lady. Have we met?" His voice, dripping with disdain, was artificially light.

Hitomi's eyes, which had widened originally upon recognising her silent audience member, narrowed at his facetious tone.

"What are you doing here?"

"I live here."

It was a lie. He never came to this house anymore.

The governess let out a noise of exasperation at his childishness. "Yes, I am aware of that. I meant to enquire as to why you were not dining with your guests."

Van shrugged, placing his hands in the pockets of his trousers and walking around the chair to face her. His gaze held hers for a moment before he let his eyes wander. He blinked past the fuzziness in his brain when he realised she was not wearing the rags he had seen her drenched in earlier. No indeed, she looked… lovely. Either that or he had drunk far more than he'd formerly thought. From what he could roughly decipher, the dress she wore was not in any current style, and certainly not a recent one at that, and yet it seemed a timeless design that clung and draped in every perfect place on her body. The colour seemed to make her sharp eyes bright, even in the darkness of the room. Seeing the manner in which he was studying her, Hitomi dragged her gaze to the floorboards. Van laughed, mirthlessly, ignoring the wave of attraction that pulsed through him.

"What a pity we've stumbled upon each other, Miss Kanzaki." He crossed his arms over his chest as he leaned back against the chair's spine. "I'm sure you'll agree with me when I admit I was hoping to avoid talking to you at all for the next three days."

The governess looked up, frowning slightly at the thinly veiled insult before crossing her arms to mimic his. "Why don't you leave then?" She asked plainly.

It was strange, Van thought, that they were acting as if nothing extraordinary had happened between them. He had expected her to be… slightly more timid with him, even scared of how he would act. Moreover, he had expected himself to be far more angry and cutting with her after her previous behaviour. He supposed it was merely in his nature to welcome ridicule instead of resentment. What was the point though, he wondered. What use was being civil with one another when the very air in the room stank with the odourless frigidity of hatred. He took several wavering steps towards the piano, next to which she stood. Hitomi blinked at him as he neared her.

"You're drunk." She stated flatly, to nobody in particular.

Van regarded her for a moment before chuckling, the deep sound filled with no real amusement.

"You say it like you are not surprised, Miss Kanzaki."

"That is because I am not surprised in the slightest."

Her hostility fuelled his need to hurt her in some cruel verbal form, but he found his mind too clogged, too heavy to form the acerbic, spiteful words on which he had existed for almost half a decade.

"Oh yes," He stated, lightly, "Of course. You know me so well, I had momentarily forgotten."

He watched her feign bewilderment, even after he had seen the flash of comprehension in her eyes. The dormant rage inside him uncoiled for reasons he refused to name.

"I… don't understand what you—"

"Oh, but you _do_ understand." He said harshly, drunk and aggravated and utterly at a loss as to what he wanted from this woman. He closed the space between them, grabbing onto her upper arms when she tried to back away. He relished the terror that she tried to school unsuccessfully from her features.

"You understand me perfectly, remember? You've got me all worked out. All worked out like your calculated little life." He resisted the urge to shake her.

"Get off me—"

"Oh, but I can't. I'm selfish like that, selfish and arrogant and, what was the other one? Oh yes, _untrustworthy_."

She brought her hands up to where his arms gripped her hard, attempting to pry him off her.

"Un_hand_—"

"Just admit that you hate me!" He practically shouted, desperate suddenly to hear the words from her, "Admit that you think I am past help, past anything that could possibly make me human again – _Admit_ it!"

"What are—… You are _drunk_, sir, I—"

"And don't 'Sir' me – _Christ_! Don't we know each other well enough by now? Would you not say that we've insulted and aggravated and aroused each other enough over the past months to for-go titles?!"

When her cheeks coloured slightly at his question, he was suddenly overcome by the urge to kiss her again. The inexplicable feeling only served to heighten his frustration. He tightened his grip on her, breathing heavily. She winced.

"Please…" She begged quietly, "Please, Van."

The long-awaited sound of his name on her lips seemed to cause something inside of him to break. He looked at her, silently beseeching, his breathing unsteady, for what seemed like an eternity. Her eyes were glistening, and she was shaking slightly. Her lips parted, drawing in an unsteady, ragged breath. He let his gaze drop to them, his grip on her arms relaxing slightly, his hands drawing down the length of them to her elbows, slowly, slowly. He could hear their breathing, exaggerated in the silence of the room, feel the air they shared. He felt her shiver and his eyelids dropped to half-mast. A forgotten warmth that had nothing to do with alcohol coiled through his gut. He drew closer to her.

"Van…" She whispered as they were brought together, her voice tinged with a desperation he could not interpret.

He kissed her. He couldn't stop himself. He kissed her because he was tired of trying not to, because he was angry and confused. He told himself he did not want her, but in truth he had wanted her since the moment he'd first touched her, all those weeks ago in the garden of some dandy's townhouse on the night of his twenty-eighth birthday. She had been so innocent, so untutored, so different to every other woman he'd held that he'd found himself drawn to her, again and again. He wished she would push him away.

But she did not, in fact, even attempt to push him away, though her lips remained still beneath his, locked together, wilfully refusing him. He pulled back slightly to find her eyes closed, anguish shaping her brows into expressive arches.

"Hitomi." He breathed, not knowing why he needed her to look at him, to respond to him. He was drunk, he knew that much, but he also knew that he wanted her to _do_ something, scream at him, hit him, kiss him back. Anything. Because when he was with her, he almost felt alive again. For the first time in five years, he almost felt like a human being. Hitomi opened her eyes. They were dark and shimmering.

"You don't want this." She said with the barest shake of her head, the words close to inaudible.

Honestly, Van didn't know what he wanted anymore. He had ceased to know five years ago, when he had watched his brother die. But what he wanted and what his body was demanding were two very different things, and god be damned if he was to be denied both.

He kissed her again, and this time it was punishing, hard and unrelenting, an attack on her senses. She made a noise of distress at his ministrations, but he just held her closer, firmer. And just when he was about to scream at her to respond… she did. Her mouth moved, opening under his, tentative but alive. His own body jerked slightly in shock, and he softened his arduous assault almost unintentionally. When he tried to force the harshness back into the caress, he found he could not. Instead his hands sank to her waist, running to the small of her back as she made maddening little noises against his lips. She arched into him as he brought her closer still.

This is wrong. This is _wrong._

And yet her body felt so perfect against his that he could not deny himself.

Her hands gradually settled on the shirt at his waist, light and unsure. The slight touch sent him reeling. An image flashed into his head of just lying her down on the floor and taking her right there, in the middle of the music room. His blood heated to an unbearable degree. He took her mouth again and again and again, mindless, possessed. He could feel the heat of her through the thin layer of silk that covered her skin, how the fabric bunched and wrinkled under the onslaught of his roaming fingertips. He said her name between kisses, relishing the way she sought his lips after every intake of breath. His—

A few yards away, the door opened without warning.

It took Van every inch of his willpower to tear his mouth away from her probing one, but he managed to, and turned towards the door almost at once. It then took a moment for his brain to process that he had to release the warm body held so sweetly against his in order to do so. Hitomi stifled a scream and struggled to get away, scrabbling from him and hiding her face from the intruder.

Van blinked blearily at Chid, who stood, unimpressed, in the open doorway.

"I was just coming to check on Miss Kanzaki." The blonde lord stated, his voice low and insipid with disparagement.

"She's fine." Van said shortly, glancing to Hitomi, who was reddening apace.

"Yes, well, your sobriety fills me with conviction." He stepped into the room, "Miss Kanzaki, would you like me to escort you to the parlour? I believe there is to be a game of cards after dinner if you would care to—"

"No, thank you, I think I will go to bed." The governess turned and walked so briskly from the room that it was a wonder she hadn't put the fire out with the burst of empty air that blew past the two gentlemen. After a moment, Van sighed and put his hands back in his pockets, his pulse slowing, looking at the door she had gone through as his friend closed it.

"I—"

"You really are the worst kind of man, aren't you." Chid interrupted, coldly, turning back to face him. It was not a question. Van looked at him, the darkness of the room making it difficult to see his expression.

"I'm drunk, Chid. Go away." He looked towards the fire.

"Do you have _any _idea how _spineless _you are?!"

"Aston—"

"After you told me you had finished toying with her, that she was nothing to you, you go and ruin her just because you are bitter at being beaten!" Chid made a sound of disgust, "I never thought I'd see you sink this low, Fanel."

Van whirled to him, shouting his frustration, "This doesn't concern you! And when did you get so protective of her?! Or of any woman for that matter?!"

Chid approached him, his eyes a vivid blue in the gloom. "She's done nothing to deserve this, Fanel. _Nothing_."

Van's eyes widened, his lips curling into an unattractive, mocking smile.

"Fancy her, do you?" He said, quietly. Chid glared at him.

"How mature of you."

"Oh no, no. I say we get to the heart of this now, don't you? I say, we put our cards on the table, so to speak." Van closed the distance between them, almost tripping over the carpet as he did so.

"You're embarrassing yourself."

Van gestured to the door behind them. "If you want her, you're welcome to her, Aston." He put a hand on his friend's shoulder and patted it a few times, "But I think you'll have a hard time of it trying to explain to your father why a mere chaperone is fit for the role of a Duchess."

Chid stared at him, hard. It was at these moments Van wondered whether they were really friends, or simply men who found comfort in the other's hopelessness. Time stretched, silence with it. Chid moved away from him wordlessly.

"Go to bed." He said as he turned to the door.

"Go to hell." Was the reply he got from the brooding viscount.

Chid smiled.

"I'll see you there."

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Hitomi slept awfully. In fact, she could not remember a night where she had tossed and turned and winced at her own thoughts quite as much as she had done the night before. As she walked into the breakfast room, she was aware that she must look a fright. She hoped nobody she knew was in there, and that she could just eat and run out again as quickly as was humanly possible. Fortunately, there was only one other person already sitting down. Unfortunately, it was Charles Aston. He stood up as she entered, bowing his head to her in greeting. She nodded back, reddening, before walking rapidly to the side board, where all the breakfast dishes lay steaming hot. She loaded her plate with eggs, bacon and toast, even though she had lost her appetite completely. Finding the resolve from some unknown place inside her, she turned and approached the table, seating herself as far away from Charles as she could without it looking deliberate. She stole a glance at him as she folded a napkin across her lap. His face was obscured by the front page of _The Times._

Well, at least he wouldn't attempt con—

"I won't tell anyone, you know. I'm not that petty."

He brought the double page down enough to glance at her over the top of it. Hitomi cleared her throat, looking resolutely at the spotless tablecloth instead of at his probing eyes.

"Thank you, but… If you're referring to… to what you saw last night then… well, I'd rather we all forgot about it entirely." She straightened her back, "It was a mistake. A… _huge_ mistake that will not be repeated." She nodded, convinced, before returning his gaze.

His eyes doubted her silently. She wondered how he accomplished such a thing without speech or any other expression.

"Indeed." He acquiesced lightly, before obscuring his face with the newspaper once again. As she began to dissect a slice of bacon on her plate, she realised she was anxious to know what he thought of her. It would not do to have him lose all respect for her already, just because he had seen her in the arms of a fairly inebriated noted rogue who just happened to be his best friend. Gosh, it did sound bad when she said it to herself.

But, heavens, what a fool she had been. What an enormous, stupid fool of a woman she had been. Letting him kiss her like that. And kissing him back! What had she done!? He was the devil incarnate. The way he had talked to her and held her and… She hated the man. She should have told him so when he'd asked her to admit it. God, how she hated him. Hated him!

"You appear to be trying to saw your way through the fine china, Miss Kanzaki. May I ask why?"

Chid's voice pierced her thoughts of loathing. She turned her head to him innocently, laying the offending cutlery down gently on the tablecloth.

"My mind is elsewhere, it seems." She tried to smile but feared the action looked artificial. "I… did not sleep well last night."

"I'm not surprised after you were attacked in such a way." The blonde lord snorted, turning to the next page of the newspaper. Hitomi frowned slightly.

"Attacked?"

"Never mind."

At that moment Merle entered, looking fresh and clean and far less tired than her chaperone.

"Good morning, my Lord!" She curtsied cheerily before Chid had even had the chance to stand up.

"Hitomi!" She approached the governess, her expression souring in an instant, "You left me all alone at dinner last night – not that I was complaining of course – but there was nobody to hold my reticule in the parlour afterwards." She appeared to be distinctly annoyed by this fact. "Where on earth did you go to?"

Hitomi blinked several times.

"Sorry, I went to bed, Merle." She said as offhandedly as she could. Technically it was the truth… sort of. "I had the most awful migraine." She glanced at Chid, whose eyes regarded her mutely over the top of his paper.

"Oh." Some of Merle's irritation seemed to seep out of her. "Well, you could have at least told me."

"That was my fault I'm afraid." Chid cut in without warning, finally laying his newspaper down over his empty plate. He seemed to only be drinking coffee for breakfast. "I recommended to Miss Kanzaki that she retire at once, hoping to tell the others at the dinner table. But as you are aware, I myself took ill last night and did not have the chance. You have my apologies." He bowed his head to her slightly.

Merle seemed entranced by his confession. She looked at him as though he had just recited a sonnet to her, blushing sweetly. Hitomi nodded her thanks to him subtly.

"That is quite alright, my Lord." The debutante gushed, "I can only hope you feel healthy this morning?"

"Quite healthy, thank you."

She did not enquire after Hitomi's wellbeing, choosing instead to sit down opposite Chid, who concealed his reluctance to remain there amazingly well.

"I hear that there is to be a ride later." Merle smiled brightly at the lord opposite her, obviously desperate to win his affections now that he had apparently declared his love.

"Really? I hear that there is to be a storm." He offered, slightly bored at the mindless chit-chat.

"Then we'll just have to ride in the rain, won't we."

The familiar voice came from the doorway. Hitomi did not need to turn to see who it was. Merle stood up at once, even though it was rather improper for her to do so.

"My Lord!" She curtsied clumsily, "Good morning; I trust you slept well?"

Van entered the room, a cup of steaming something already in his hand.

"Terribly, thanks." He replied.

"Er… terribly well or just terribly?"

Hitomi turned when Merle asked the superfluous question, just in time to see him put his steaming cup on the sideboard and smile lopsidedly at the debutante.

"Just terribly." His eyes moved from Merle's to catch her own. She looked away immediately, trying not to appear awkward or blush. She supposed she must be failing, because a moment later Merle asked:

"My goodness, Hitomi, you look dreadfully flushed. Are you alright?"

Hitomi swore inwardly. Damn her inability to do _anything _with subtlety!

"I… think I need to take some air briefly." She stood up hastily, "Do excuse me."

Chid stood from the table as she tried to leave. "Let me accompany you to the terrace, Miss Kanzaki."

"Oh, no thank you, I'll just—"

"Don't worry, Aston, I'll take her."

She looked up at the Viscount, who was already offering his arm to her. He raised a sardonic brow, daring her to take it. When she quickly glanced back at Chid, his expression was convincingly impassive. Merle was staring wide-eyed at the exchange. Hitomi swallowed, her eyes locking once more with those of the ebony-haired rake in front of her.

"That is quite alright, my Lord." She tried again, "I'm perfectly—"

"I insist."

And that was that. She couldn't refuse him now; not in front of Merle. The debutante would begin to suspect something. Well, perhaps not, she was hardly the sharpest pencil in the box – but it was hardly wise to risk such a thing. God, how she hated him.

She took the arm Van had proffered, ignoring the awkwardness of touching him after their encounter last night and, refusing to look at his face, left the room with him at her side. When they had advanced a few metres out of the doorway, he turned her right, towards the back of the house.

"What are you doing?" She whispered harshly, trying to extricate herself from him. He wouldn't let her.

"I'm taking you out to the garden for some… fresh air, was it?" He said calmly, his mouth showing the ghost of a smile as he glanced at her. She turned and glared at him as they continued to walk.

"What do you want? Why didn't you let Lord Aston take me?"

He was silent for a moment. "I wanted to talk to you."

Hitomi looked at the walls they were passing, to the paintings that watched their exchange with silent, judging eyes.

"I think we've said all that there possibly is to say." She muttered, quietly. They had entered a very bright room full of windows, and walked towards a set of glass doors. When they reached them, Hitomi saw that a gravel path lay just on the other side, obviously leading to one of the gardens. Van didn't answer her, instead opening the door and gesturing for her to walk through it. She looked at him sceptically for a moment before conceding. The breeze felt wonderful on her skin as the stone crunched beneath her shoes. Even if the sky was cloudy, at least it had stopped raining.

She suddenly wished she was alone. She wished she didn't feel so self-conscious with him, wished she could stop re-living what she had done with him the night before and on seemingly countless other occasions. She felt so embarrassed at her own lack of restraint. He closed the door behind them, not attempting to take her arm again as they continued down the path. When they had reached the beautiful expanse of a well-kept rose garden, at length, he began.

"I… wanted to apologise for my behaviour last night."

She was so shocked that she had to stop walking.

"What?"

He came to a halt a few steps in front of her when he realised she'd stopped. When he turned to her, his hair looked wild, untamed in the wind, and his face was as serious as she had ever seen it. His eyes were dark and intense.

"I'm sorry." He said. From what she could tell, he wasn't joking. "I was drunk and angry and I didn't mean to frighten you. I—"

"Frighten me—?"

"—I was just thinking about… _everything_ and… I was worked up. You caught me at the worst possible moment."

Their gazes held, his unreadable and hers disbelieving.

"You're… apologising to me?" She asked, doubtfully.

He nodded curtly.

"You're _apologising_ to me?"

"Yes I think we've gathered that."

Hitomi frowned at his sarcasm, though she still couldn't quite believe what she was hearing. She carried on walking until she was level with where he stood, next to a bush of white roses which was just beginning to flower and bloom.

"But… _why_?"

She genuinely did not understand. This was the man she despised, who had tricked her and played with her mind, treated her as if she was inferior and insulted her every turn he got. And this same man was apologising to her? There must be an ulterior motive. She simply would not believe he'd experienced a change of character overnight. Van shrugged, his hands rising in a gesture betraying his own confusion.

"I just realised what an ass I'd been." He said simply, "That kiss last night was a mistake, and it was my fault."

At his mention of the kiss they had shared, Hitomi's blood heated uncomfortably, her stomach doing a sort of somersault that left her mind in disarray. And then something suddenly came to her. She blinked at him, tucking some loose hairs behind her ears.

"Well… what about all the other kisses?" She asked, regretting the question the second she'd raised it. She damned her own curiosity. Van looked at her for a moment, his expression betraying nothing of his thoughts.

"Naturally this… includes those." He ended up saying, running a hand through his hair, only for the wind to claim it and ruffle it further. Their eyes remained on one another's. Something indecipherable seemed to pass between them. Hitomi didn't like it. It made her feel weak, both physically and mentally. She knew he was remembering everything that had happened over the short space of time they had known each other. Two months was nothing really, and yet to her it seemed they had been at each others' throats for a lifetime.

_He's arrogant_, she told herself. _He's arrogant and calculating and no-good_. And yet she found herself believing every word he said. Or at least, she found herself _wanting_ to believe every word. Van cleared his throat.

"So…" He looked away from her, out towards the hills and lush forest that lay peacefully beyond the gardens. "Do you accept?"

Hitomi blinked, bewildered due to the direction of her own thoughts.

"Accept what?"

Van looked back to her, raising his brows slightly in what she could only imagine was impatience.

"My apology, sweet."

She ignored the endearment, along with the rush of foreboding that came along with it. He had been honest with her. He had actually been self-deprecating, something she would never have expected from any member of the aristocracy. Really, she didn't have a choice in the matter. Her conscience had decided for her.

"I …" She blushed, trying not to think about other uses for the words she was about to say.

"I do."

Van smiled slightly. "Good."

She smiled back. She didn't think they had ever been so civil. But then he said something that made her stomach drop.

"I also… have a favour to ask you."

Hitomi's smile fell, replaced immediately by an apprehensive purse of her lips. Van obviously didn't sense her feelings of foreboding, for he continued, in a lightened tone:

"I want your permission to court Merle Rogers."

Immediately, everything he had said to her, asked of her in the last ten minutes fell into place. And every evil trait of his that she had tried to deny came back doubly as conniving and course. She scowled at him.

"Ex_cuse_ me?"

"Well, since we've come to an understanding, and her parents are out of the country, you're the only one I can—"

"How _dare _you…"

He looked at her quizzically, as if she had gone out of her mind. She must be mad to have even considered his premeditated, forged apology.

"How dare I what?"

"You think that just because you _pretend _to apologise for all the ridiculousness you've forced on me, I will suddenly think you the next messiah and give you my _blessing_?!" She was shaking her head with incredulity, gesturing wildly with her hands. "After everything you've done!"

"Who said I was pretending?"

"Oh, pull the other one."

Van relinquished his façade of virtue in an instant, shrugging slightly. "Well at least I tried. You would never have agreed if I hadn't even _tried_."

"I would never have agreed! Full stop!" She brought her hands together in a clap as a gesture of finality. "You are the last person on _Earth _I would let anywhere near her!"

"Strange," He countered, "Seeing as you brought her to my bloody house party."

She narrowed her eyes at him, "Oh yes, very smart. And what was I supposed to do? Tell her about everything so she would dismiss me out onto the street and be free for your practiced seduction?!"

"Well it wouldn't have been a bad start."

"_Eugh_! _Stop it_!! For Christ's sake _grow up_!"

She whirled and stomped back towards the house.

"Yes, and sulking away from me is of course very mature." He shouted after her, over the wind. She stopped, breathing heavily, turned and then stomped back towards him again. He watched her as she approached, a look of mirthless amusement on his face. She walked right up to him, encroaching on his personal space and disregarding every inch of her own.

"Yesterday you asked me to say that I hated you, do you remember?" She was standing on a higher part of the garden than him, enabling her to better look into his scornful eyes. He made no reaction. She smiled, a cruel, angry, exasperated smile.

"Well, I do hate you, Van. I hate you more than any man, beast or thing I've ever hated in my entire life. You _are_ selfish and conceited, you have no regard for human feeling, your _heart _is… is _stone! _I practically told you as much a fortnight ago, but here are the words you long so much to hear. Here are the short, self-destructive words that you will relish in your angry, bitter little world: I. hate. You."

They stared at each other, the wind groaning and swaying and breathing in the trees and grass that surrounded them. She couldn't stand the fact that he looked so beautiful at that moment. His face was shadowed, sinister, achingly handsome. She cursed the angels who had carved it in sin.

"Aren't you going to leave now?" He asked, quietly. She blinked. He continued before she could respond.

"Only, usually you run away because you're scared of how I'll retaliate. You insult me and then leave. It's quite rude, really."

Hitomi looked at him, amazed. Appalled.

"You're saying that _I'm_—"

"I'm saying, Miss Kanzaki, that you are perhaps the rudest, most impossible woman I have ever had the displeasure of knowing."

"Well, I—"

"And you assume you have the highest moral ground of anybody, when in fact it was _you _who came here, it was _you _who found me last night and it was _you, _madam, _you _who kissed me back."

Hitomi swallowed, "I did none of that out of choice."

Van laughed harshly, "No, of course you didn't."

God, how she hated him.

"Well why did you even try to kiss me to begin with!?" She countered. Van shook his head slightly.

"I did not '_try'_ to kiss you, I _kissed_ you. It's called attraction, Hitomi. Lust, magnetism – call it what you will but don't pretend it's anything more than that. It happens. You feel it, I feel it. Let's not deny it any longer. I'm attracted to you and you're attracted to me—"

"I most certainly am not!"

Her interruption caused him to stop talking and narrow his eyes at her. The wind died down, giving way to unsettling silence, everything deceptively still around them. The moment stretched unbearably. Time seemed to slow. She felt his hand take her wrist gently, without warning, holding it between their bodies. Not taking his eyes from her livid ones, he pushed up her sleeve gently so it left the skin of her wrist bare. He moved forward to whisper in her ear before she could fully form a suitable protest or turn away.

"What are you—"

"Yesterday, when your body was arching into mine as I kissed you, what did you want?"

He found the pulse beneath her wrist and circled the sensitive area lightly, running his fingertips across her soft, receptive skin. Hitomi fought the urge to sway into him as a tingling warmth suffused its way up her arm and down through her body, to where it coiled somewhere low in her abdomen. Her eyelids threatened to droop under the sensual onslaught. She tried to remember where they were. What he was capable of.

"I didn't… want anything. I…" She inhaled sharply as his fingers continued to rob her of coherence, "…I wanted to get away from you."

Van released a breathy laugh past her ear, "Do you know what I think?"

She let loose a shaky gasp as she gave a barely perceptible shake of her head. He held her wrist between them, still, close enough to their bodies to gather the heat radiating from both.

"I think you don't understand what you wanted. I think it scares you. I think it's scaring you right now."

She blinked at him as he moved back from her ear, her mind only half-awake. His eyes darkened as they caught hers. He smiled a devil's smile.

"But it's simple." He murmured. "What you feel now, sweetheart… that's attraction. That's lust." He watched her inhale unsteadily, his own breathing uneven. "Do you recognise it?"

Hitomi swallowed thickly. Of course she recognised it. Every time she looked at this arrogant, conceited man standing in front of her, she felt it. Her stomach would tighten, her blood would heat. But until now she thought she had only read about what lust was. She knew desire by definition. She knew passion only by page-number. What she hadn't realised before this moment, was that she burned for this man. She may not like him, and she certainly didn't love him. But she wanted him. She wanted to touch his skin, to hear him sigh in her ear with pleasure. She wanted to hate him as much as she said she did. But she couldn't.

She just couldn't.

Awareness came back to her in slow, lethargic waves. She took her wrist from his grip, her arm heavy and still turgid with sensation.

"Stay away from Merle." She ordered quietly, dazedly backing away from him.

"You feel it, don't you." He said, his voice low, silk over gravel.

Hitomi shook her head in denial, taking further steps away from him.

"All I feel is revulsion at what you are."

They examined each other for a drawn out moment. She knew he saw through her when he smiled dangerously.

"We'll see."

She tore her eyes away from the darkness in his, turning back towards the house. She didn't let herself look back until she had reached the terrace, and even then she only looked up at the sky, at the storm clouds brewing overhead.

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She found Merle in the parlour a few minutes later, talking at Chid as if she thought he was actually listening. He stood from his chair as she entered. She bowed her head quickly in response to the greeting.

"Do you feel better, Miss Kanzaki?" He enquired, gesturing to the chair next to where Merle sat opposite him. Hitomi frowned. She didn't see the point in lying.

"Not at all."

He seemed to understand, his eyes flashing some kind of sympathy at her, as if he knew some extent of her pain.

Merle tutted impatiently, "Well I'd rather you spare us the details, if you don't mind. Otherwise I'm going to find Lucinda to discuss far more interesting matters. Did you hear there's to be a storm later?"

Chid latched onto the possibility of the debutante's departure by asking innocently where exactly Hitomi felt the migraine in her head. Merle left, as promised, shortly afterwards, exclaiming her immense boredom. When they were alone, Chid sighed and leant back in his chair. He stared at something out the window as Hitomi regarded her fingernails opposite him, strangely not feeling awkward at all in his presence.

"He's damaged, you know."

The governess blinked up at him, lost in her own thoughts.

"Mm? Who is?"

"Van. He's damaged beyond repair. I just thought you should know." Chid fished into his pocket for something, pulling out a thin metal case. Hitomi watched him extract a cigarette from it.

"I don't see what it has to do with me." But she was curious. She had been for a long time. Chid held the cigarette in his mouth as he lit the end. He inhaled before removing it with his fingertips, holding it down by the chair's side.

"Just don't judge him too harshly." He exhaled a cloud of smoke, "He's… damaged."

Hitomi frowned again, sitting forward in the plush armchair. "You keep using that word, 'damaged'. What do you mean exactly?"

The lord opposite her sighed tiredly, as if preparing himself for long explanation.

"As you probably know, Van is actually the second son of the Earl. Francis Fanel, Folken as he was known by his family, was the first born. Van practically worshipped him." Chid took a drag of the cigarette, glancing at Hitomi for a sign to continue.

"Go on." She said quietly, silently dreading what was about to be said. Chid exhaled another cloud of smoke.

"About five years ago, the family went on their annual relocation to France, to visit the Countess' relatives and such. Van and Folken went out hunting I think. From what I've been told, all was well until they came to a wooden bridge over a river, a rickety old thing, you know the type. Well, apparently Van refused to cross it – they were on horseback of course – and tried to go round another way. Recent floods had made the river-flow vicious. Folken didn't listen, went over it, stood too long on the thing and it broke beneath the weight of his horse. He fell into the river and drowned." Chid took a drag of the cigarette caught between his fingers, staring out the window at the clouds. Hitomi felt rather numb all of a sudden.

"How… How awful." She muttured quietly, though she was practically lost for words.

"Yes, it was rather." Chid said flatly, "Naturally, Van jumped into the rapids after him, tried to save him. Smashed a few bones here and there."

Hitomi blinked in astonishment, "No…"

The lord nodded slightly opposite her, unblinking, "But of course by the time he found the body, he hadn't a hope. I'm not sure whether Folken died in his arms or before then."

The ticking of the grandfather clock nearby seemed to echo throughout the small space. Hitomi shook her head in disbelief. No wonder Van had issues. He was probably still overcome with grief. And after everything she had said to him about being selfish…

"Since then," Chid continued over her thoughts, "He's never really tried to… be accepted by anyone. He's cold. Cynical. He pushes everyone away. He blames himself for what happened, he tells me as much, and refuses to forgive himself, even if it means this sort of… endless pain. He wants to be punished in some way. He busied himself with women for a time, but that got him nowhere. God forbid he ever truly cares for anyone, he'll be scared to death they'll leave him. I don't think he'd be able to sleep at night." He took one last toke off the cigarette before stubbing it out on a nearby ashtray, uninterestedly. Hitomi bit her lip.

"Can't… can't you help him?" She asked, knowing already the futility of the question.

Chid laughed harshly, "_I _certainly can't. I'm the same bloody person. It's hard enough trying to tell another person not to commit suicide when you've stared at a razor blade for forty minutes that same morning."

He looked at her, and she noticed his smile was filled with sadness, just like his eyes. She remembered everything Liddy had said about his fiancée, how she had died so close to their wedding. It must have been terrible. Horrible.

"Oh, Charles." She whispered. "I'm so sorry." If she'd been closer, she would have touched his hand in reassurance, even if it had forgone propriety. She seemed to have an oddly personal connection with the man already. It was quite disconcerting, how natural it felt to want to comfort him.

"Call me Chid." He said, out of habit, seemingly unmoved, as if the words she'd offered had lost all meaning to him. Then after a moment he added: "And don't tell him I told you about all this."

Hitomi cleared her throat of the emotion that remained there before frowning slightly.

"Don't worry; I don't think I ever want to talk to him again." She glanced at him, "Why… why _did_ you tell me about all this?"

Chid looked back to the window, crossing his legs casually.

"Because I think he's falling in love with you, and you deserve to know why he's finding it so unbearable."

Hitomi began coughing as she tried to swallow. The result was hardly attractive.

"You think he's _what_?!" she choked, unable to process what her new friend just declared so brazenly. "How do you… how could you even—"

"Trust me." He said simply, looking at her briefly before turning back to the window as if he hadn't just made her heart stop.

"But—"

"Hitomi!" Merle's voice sang out from the doorway, interrupting the governess' offense of denial, "We're leaving for the ride in an hour! I need to you to help me into my riding habit at once!" The debutante entered the room and forcibly grabbed her chaperone by the arm, smiling sweetly at Chid, who continued looking elsewhere.

Hitomi muttered a hasty "Excuse me" to the man who had just confused her beyond bearing before following her charge out of the room. As they went up the stairs, her mind attempted to process all the information that had bombarded it, the task proving fairly impossible.

She couldn't see how Van could possibly be falling in love with her. The very notion of it was ridiculous. They barely knew each other, barely could tolerate the other's presence. And if he was as 'damaged' as Chid seemed to think he was, how could he even know how to love another human being? How could he even let himself? Admitting an attraction to her was one thing, but falling in love… that was something entirely different. Something impossible.

And besides… she could never love him back.

Such a thing, fate would never allow.

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**Ooooooooo**

**Look at all the back-story I'm slowly ebbing in there... am I sly or what? The next chapter will answer allllllllll the questions you've just started hurling at the screen angrily, I promise.**

**Anyway, if you've read it, review it please, since any criticism is highly appreciated. I may even put this chapter under construction again because I'm incredibly fussy.**

**Right, I'm off to bed then. Toodles!**

**P.S. Should I raise the rating for this story? It's getting slightly difficult to tone down the characters' reactions - what can I say, they're passionate creatures. Let me know what you think.  
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**P.P.S. Spirit0 - *Points to attempted paragraphs* :)  
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	6. Chapter 6

**A/N**: **BOOM! I'm back with a vengeance. I've been travelling for a month, so you'll have to forgive me for the MA-HU-SIVE gap between updates. But yes, how is everyone? Good? Good. **

**This chapter is LONGG, and I'm really not confident in whether you'll like it or not, so please feel free to say "WHAT IS THIS VERBAL FAECES I'M READING!?", if it displeases you. However, if it does not displease you, then I would, of course, prefer it if you didn't mention faeces at all in your review. **

**Anyway yes, long chapter. LOTS TO THINK ABOUT, so pay attention if you please.**

**ENJOY!**

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"_There is often something alarming in an occurrence, merely because it is that which we least expect."_ – **'Paul Clifford'**

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Hitomi had never been good at riding.

In all honesty, she had never been able to see the logic in flinging herself onto a horse, only for it to gallop away at a frightening pace with her flailing atop it, gripping onto its reins for dear life. Riding gave her no pleasure, no feeling of achievement or pride in her ability. Indeed, the only thing riding had ever given her was a sore bottom, which was hardly rewarding.

She frowned inwardly as a stable lad brought a particularly menacing mount before her.

"Know 'ow to ride, miss?"

The governess mentally shook herself, overcoming the temptation to say no and forgo this ridiculous activity altogether.

"Unfortunately, yes." She muttered quietly. The mare winnied.

"'er name's Eve." The boy handed her the reins, smiling slightly. Hitomi swallowed, staring into its glassy black eyes.

"How… nice."

After sheepishly patting the sheer, glossy coat of the brown mount, she stepped onto the block beside it, hoisting herself into the side saddle. It was the first time she'd ridden in years, and the complexities of positioning oneself onto a bizarrely shaped seat in a dress that was incredibly inappropriate almost got the better of her. Fortunately, with some subtle wiggling, she gripped onto the pommel and the reins, praying to god it would start raining before they left. Perhaps then there might be a chance of remaining indoors for the afternoon.

Twenty minutes later, her hopes were completely dashed as she trotted towards the forest behind the others, staring up at a sky that had become damnably clear. It was the first time she'd seen the sun in hours, and yet it seemed dimmer than usual, to her tired eyes. Her attention was drawn back down to earth again by the familiar sound of Merle's laughter, and she looked ahead to see the girl throwing her head back in abandon as Charles Aston rode easily beside her. Hitomi saw him lift a quizzical brow at the debutante's overstated reaction before he faced forward again.

They were out in a party of seven, altogether. Merle rode with Chid in front of Hitomi, Lady Fanel was in front of them with an unknown gentleman, and Millerna Aston headed up the group with Lord Dryden, who, according to the latest gossip, was set upon courting her. Van, ever the elusive host, was nowhere in sight. Hitomi was especially thankful for his absence as the distance grew between her and the rest of the party, simply because, yet again, she felt she had nothing left to say to him. A mere two hours before, he had apologised to her, insulted her and practically seduced her in the space of about five minutes, which must have been some sort of record. And in turn, she had made clear the extent of her hatred towards him. Indeed, she had practically screamed it in his face. But she abhorred the fact that she couldn't seem to avoid him, cursing the way he kept entering her thoughts, uninvited, as per usual. She couldn't stop herself recalling it, remembering the way he'd held her in the rose garden that morning, re-living the sensuous threats he'd whispered into her reddening ears.

But she did not believe he was falling in love with her; of that fact, she was certain Chid was mistaken. Van was a practiced seducer, a _Don Juan_, the most revered rogue of the _ton_; men like him did not fall, not for anything, nor anyone. At most, Hitomi surmised he was experiencing the inevitable _ennui_ that the aristocracy often fell prey to after attending too many of the same parties with too many of the same people. He was teasing her, like the boys who sat behind the girls they liked in the Sunday-school room, silently dipping the ends of their hair into inkpots, grinning. Van had clearly never expected her to turn round and protest. He had expected her to give in, because nobody ever denied him anything. He was a powerful, enigmatic and arrogant scoundrel, and he was rich, which made him a perfectly eligible rogue. For the mammas of the marriage mart, he was the _piece de resistance_, the must-have bridegroom for their eager, naïve debutantes. Moreover, she knew of women, debutantes, wives and widows alike, smitten with his graceful negligence, who had given their bodies to him willingly, begged to be taken; one of his mistresses had even threatened to commit suicide when he'd tired of her company (even if the threat had clearly been one of empty words).

And all of this seemed to add up to one, key question in Hitomi's mind: had he_ ever_ been refused? The tension and passion that arose between them every time she denied him seemed to point towards the fact that, until now, he had never suffered the icy barb of rejection. Hitomi blinked several times and stopped her horse.

It seemed that, in the midst of her self-debate and confusion, she had just solved the very mystery of their whole tempestuous relationship. It was simple, really. Van was not pursuing her because he was falling in love with her; no. He was pursuing her because he couldn't stand the fact that she wasn't falling in love with him.

"What a ridiculous man." She murmured, watching the others canter away without her. By this point, they had entered the heart of the forest, and the wind had begun to groan ominously through the trees. She looked up through the foliage and saw dark, deathly grey amidst the green. It was going to rain, and she was going to get absolutely soaking again. Good god, why did the weather hate her all of a sudden? She sighed, urging her horse forward to catch up with the others. As she made her way through the trees, she caught sight of Chid trotting along, slowly. He seemed to have left the group. He turned his horse as he heard her approach, smiling easily.

"You seem to be taking in the landscape far more thoroughly than the rest of us, Miss Kanzaki."

Hitomi stopped her horse beside his, returning his smile easily, "I must admit that my head is still entirely elsewhere. In all honesty, the landscape is the last thing on my mind."

"Hm." Chid regarded her warily. After a moment, he frowned. "I'm sorry."

The governess looked up, "What on earth for?"

The blonde lord patted his horse's neck absently. "For drawing your thoughts back to Van again." His eyes caught hers, "I can safely say that he is not worth your time."

She blinked, surprised at his openness for the second time that day. "Oh, I'm not thinking about Van." She lied quickly, "It's just I… I think I'm coming down with a cold."

Chid's expression immediately changed to one of concern.

"Shall I escort you back to the manor? We were going to stop and have tea at the summer house just on the other side of the forest, but—"

"Oh, no, please." Hitomi silenced him with a gentle hand on his sleeve, which he looked down at briefly before returning his gaze to hers, "I wouldn't want to take you away from Merle."

The Duke's heir smiled slightly again, "I assure you it would be no great sacrifice."

"Please, I'll be fine." She waved away his chivalry, "I can assure you I'm quite capable of riding alone. I can find my own way back."

Chid frowned again, clearly considering the accuracy of her affirmations. Hitomi naturally assumed he would be paranoid about female riders after what had happened to his fiancée. She waited to be told of her incapability.

"Alright, if you're sure." He said, after a moment, to her surprise. "But turn straight back, no dawdling. It'll rain soon."

Hitomi nodded, "Tell Merle not to worry, will you? Although I doubt she'll mind terribly if she has you all to herself."

He smiled, turning his horse. "Indeed. Well, if you run into Van on your way, tell him we've gone to the summer house. He should be riding up by now."

She nodded again, waving as Chid kicked his horse into an impressive canter, hoping against hope that she would _not_ bump into their ever absent host.

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Van loved riding in the rain. Nothing could compare with how it felt to race his stallion against the downpour, to drink in the rain that streamed into his mouth and down his back, to revel in the sturdy, steady beat of hooves upon the earth. He'd watched the storm clouds rolling in as he'd saddled up his horse, Lucifer, a black beast he'd trained himself, and had purposefully waited for the first drops to fall upon the grounds before he had galloped out of the stables. By the time he'd reached the forest, the rain was as torrential as it had been the day before, and he was practically soaked through. He grinned to himself as he threw off his hat and let the water catch and saturate his hair.

He'd wanted to leave for the past hour, but freedom had remained elusive as he'd dwelt upon the meeting he'd had with his father that morning. George Fanel, the Earl of Adomwood, once a respected and dashing nobleman who had captured the hearts of the _ton_, and most notably, the heart of the most beautiful woman in Paris, was bedridden, and had been so for the past year. However, the illness itself had begun more than four years ago, and even the best doctors in the country had initially been mystified at the Earl's sudden lack of energy and appetite. Their only diagnosis had been to claim that the grief he felt over his son's death had literally, if temporarily, crippled him. And yet days of suffering became weeks, weeks trailed into months and those months dragged on into years of melancholy. Throughout all this, Van and his mother could only look on in silent horror as the man they knew faded into a shadow of his former self in front of their eyes. And now, it seemed his illness had worsened to a point of no return. Now, the doctors said it was the end. Now, they could only wait.

Van dreaded every word he exchanged with his father. Folken's death had affected all of them, and yet it was the Earl who had fallen to the deepest, darkest depths of grief. After all, Folken had been his rightful heir, his first born. The Earl had prepared him, groomed him to take over the responsibilities that came with such a prestigious title. Van had always been too young, too unprepared and fickle, in his father's eyes, to carry such a burden on his shoulders. But now it seemed there was no choice. It was often that Van wondered whether, if it had been _him_ who had drowned that day instead of Folken, his father would still have fallen to the same, sorry state. Every instruction, every piece of advice he received from the man seemed to be laced with a silent disappointment that was so acute it made his heart ache.

"You must find a wife." The Earl had urged, his voice slightly rasping, earlier that day. Van had been pacing in front of the fireplace.

"You say it like it is a chore." The viscount had muttered, leaning an elbow on the mantelpiece and staring into the flames.

"It _is _a chore," The Earl had said, more forcefully. Van turned his head to him. "It's a chore sifting through countless, mindless women until you find one who makes you so furious with yourself, you don't know whether to strangle her or kiss her."

Van sighed. "You were lucky." He said, darkly, starting to pace again.

"_Stefan_."

The Viscount flinched, stopped and turned at the authority that remained in the barked syllables of his full name.

"This is your duty. You must secure an heir. You cannot and will not run from it, do you understand me?" The Earl used the last of his energy to sit up and point an accusatory finger towards his only son. "You cannot run this time."

Those words rang hard in his ears as he galloped violently through the storm. But he was running, at least for now. And he would run until he forgot what he was running for, and then he would stop, and breathe, and break. And then? Then he would pick up the pieces and return to reality, take up the untimely responsibility that had fallen upon his shoulders, and marry Merle Rogers. Ironic, really, how his original plan had employed the young debutante in an effort to _avoid_ matrimony. But at the end of the day, she was titled, popular, and a rather pretty little thing. It was a good match, one his parents would approve of. And even if the spinster governess had refused to allow it, he would make it happen. Though it pained him greatly, he knew he would have to give up his freedom, his youth. He had to; for his father, and for his brother, who would have done the same. God had abandoned him long ago, and fate had waited far too long. Duty had finally enslaved him, and had smothered the final dregs of his spirit.

He raced through the forest, barely looking where he was going, trusting his horse to take him away, barely missing branches and dodging tree trunks. The world rushed past him in a blur of colours and shapes, of greens and greys and browns, of hot and cold, wet and dry, dark and light. He could hardly breathe, hardly think. He revelled in the sense that he had vanished into nature, and grasped onto each moment as if it were the last he could spend as himself.

Then he heard a scream.

It took a moment for the world to stop spinning in front of his eyes, and when it did finally stop, the scene before him unfolded in torturous slow motion. Another horse had momentarily blocked his path, and to avoid collision, had started rearing up on its hind-legs as he had galloped past, launching itself up so it was practically parallel to the surrounding trees. But it was only after it had begun its descent back to earth that Van realised it had been carrying a rider. A woman. And she was falling, falling. Screaming. He swore loudly, galloping back to her at full speed and leaping off his horse in an attempt to reach her before she hit the ground. The unmistakeable thud he heard over the sound of the rain was deafening. He cursed again, falling at her side, his coat billowing out behind him, reaching for her limp, unmoving body. He threw away the bonnet that had fallen in front of her eyes.

And his heart sank when he saw her face.

"Hitomi…" He pushed the wet hair back from her face hastily, his arms reaching under her to instinctively support her. "Hitomi!" She made no response. Without faltering, he tore his right-glove off with his teeth, his fingers moving to her pale, bared neck, to where he prayed the beat of her pulse would be. He bit down on his lip in concentration, trying not to panic when he couldn't find it. After an agonisingly long moment, he felt it, slow but strong beneath his fingertips, and breathed a sigh of heady relief, his head falling to his chest momentarily. Gathering himself within a matter of seconds, he picked her up as gently as he could. He needed to act quickly, to find a place he could inspect her injury and make her warm. Immediately, the wood-cottage came to mind. He knew it was only a matter of minutes away, far closer than the manor.

He glanced down at the unconscious governess in his arms, wondering what in God's name she was doing out here on her own in the first place.

"Damned foolish woman."

Without further contemplation, he whistled for Lucifer to follow, leaving the other mare to run back to the manor if and when she pleased, and began trudging through the mud and leaves in the downpour, swearing liberally and often. He tried to move quickly, but didn't want to worsen Hitomi's condition by mistake; for all he knew, her life could be hanging in the balance. He gritted his teeth against the rain, pushing on, checking every now and then if Lucifer was behind them. Finally, the cottage came into sight. He knew it well, for he spent much of his time there when he wasn't up in London, longing for the bursting silence of the woods. He hoped his mother had the good sense to keep it maintained throughout the year, otherwise by now it would be full of dozens of scurrying, unwanted visitors.

A little less cautiously, he ran to the door, peering in through the window beside it briefly, noting the dank darkness lying behind it. Taking a steadying breath, he tried to get it open, but the handle seemed jammed. After swearing profusely and trying it again, and again, he gritted his teeth, adjusted the unconscious woman in his arms, and gave it a solid kick. Thankfully, it swung open to reveal the damp but clean and dust-free interior of the cottage. He sidestepped in, steering well clear of the doorposts, and caught sight of the day-bed on the other side of the room. It was a small cottage, only one floor, but furnished comfortably with plush armchairs, rugs, a desk and several bookcases. As he crossed the floor, he glanced at the fireplace, thanking some form of higher being that there was a little fresh, dry wood next to it. He placed Hitomi down gently onto the daybed, realising, to his dismay, that her dress was absolutely soaked through. Cursing again, he ran outside, guiding Lucifer into the small stable by the side of the cottage before returning, slamming the door behind him.

"Hitomi," He walked across the floor and crouched by the day-bed, his hand first on her shoulder, then on her cheek. It was ice cold. "Hitomi, can you hear me?" He frowned when she made no movement, save the rise and fall of her chest. She started to shiver.

He swore, again, and moved to take off her riding jacket. He grabbed the lapels, but checked himself as he realised just what it was he was doing. The woman would probably kill him if she woke up now, to an image of the man she most hated, divesting her of her clothing in a deserted shed. Frowning, he then realised that there really was no other choice; kept in the wet clothes, she would definitely contract a fever, and he wouldn't be able to do anything to help her. After a steadying breath, he wrenched the garment open and, after some tedious manoeuvring, slid it off her. He then went to work on her heavy skirts. Unsurprisingly, he made rather short work of undressing her. Indeed, his long-standing rakish career ensured that he was no stranger to the hooks and fastenings of ladies' frocks. Throughout all of this, he talked to her constantly, his soft mutterings punctuated by odd curse-words that were the only signs of his disquiet. Once he'd gotten her down to her chemise and stockings, he stopped, swallowed, and wondered what to do. After running a hand through his drenched hair, he fingered the fabric at her waist. Somehow, it was remarkably dry. No need to strip it off. He sighed in relief, and ignored his gathering disappointment.

"Blankets, blankets, blankets…" He stood up abruptly and looked around, catching sight of several fluffy looking coverlets draped over a nearby armchair. He grabbed three and immediately went to work on wrapping up the shivering invalid. When she was tightly bound, he smoothed some of the hair from her face.

"Hitomi?" He watched her intently for a moment. She didn't move. His face fell. Another soft curse passed his lips.

Frowning, Van picked himself up and went over to the fireplace. After creating an impressive blaze in a matter of minutes, he started undressing, keeping an eye on the governess the entire time. Stripping off completely, he wrapped a blanket around his lower half, tied it, and then dragged the daybed Hitomi lay on before the fire, next to a well placed, comfortable-looking armchair. He sighed and looked down at her, noting her strangely peaceful expression. Indeed, it was bizarre to think that the last time he'd seen her had been that morning, and she had been shouting at him, apparently revolted by the mere sight of him. He had only meant to apologise to her and ask her permission to court Merle, and yet when she had denied him, he had found himself drawn to her again, found himself taking her into his arms, holding her, tempting her with his body. And yet again, he'd seen the unmistakeable fire of passion burn within her eyes, felt it upon her skin. His own eyes narrowed.

_I hate you more than any man, beast or thing I've ever hated in my entire life. _

He hated the fact that his blood heated just thinking about her.

_You __are__ selfish and conceited, you have no regard for human feeling, your __heart __is… is __stone!_

"Damned wench. You're more trouble than you're worth."

_Here are the short, self-destructive words that you will relish in your angry, bitter little world: I. hate. You._

He settled into the armchair, preparing himself for a long day and, doubtless, a sleepless night as well.

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Hitomi awoke feeling rather like a caterpillar. One that had been bashed on the head with an enormous, sharpened rock. She groaned, blinked, tried to bring her hands to her head, and then blinked again when she could not manage it. Confused and disorientated, she looked down at herself, wondering how on earth she had become wrapped so tightly in her own blankets. It was then she realised that she was not, in fact, in her own bed.

She shot upright, terrified, bursting out of the coverlets, and then let out a scream when she saw somebody had undressed her. That same somebody leapt out of the armchair next to her, looking round hastily.

"What?! What is it?! Wh— Stop _screaming_, for God's sake woman!"

Hitomi did. She blinked again, several times, her eyes adjusting to the soft glow from the fire. She recognised that voice. Indeed, it was the same voice that had been invading her dreams only moments before. The figure before her seemed only to be wearing breeches, his torso uncovered, bronzed in the firelight. She swallowed.

"V-Van?"

"The very one." His gaze flickered down past her face before he made himself turn towards the fireplace, "Christ, woman, cover yourself."

She looked down again, horrified, and clutched a nearby blanket to her practically transparent chemise.

"What on earth… Where the _hell_ am I?! What happened? Is Merle alright? Where is everyone? If you've—"

"Bloody hell, slow down will you?"

"But I don't—" She broke off, paling rapidly, her eyes wide and unblinking as she stared again at his unclothed body in undisguised terror. "Did _we_…--" She trailed off, aghast.

Van rolled his eyes at her.

"Don't look so terrified; please, it's insulting." He sat down heavily, waving an arm dismissively, "You fell off your horse and passed out, I found you and took you here; the others have doubtless returned to the manor, I assume that Miss Rogers is absolutely fine, and before you ask, no, we can't go back until the morning because the rain is so bloody heavy that it's sheeting out the landscape."

"Fell off my…" Ignoring the rest of his explanation, Hitomi clutched her head and found a bump somewhere round the back. She swallowed, looking up at her supposed saviour. "But how?"

The Viscount stared into the fire for a moment. "Lucifer frightened your horse."

Hitomi raised her eyebrows, "Lucifer?"

"My stallion."

Then she frowned.

"You named your horse after the devil?"

"Naturally."

The fire crackled in the silence. Hitomi sighed after a moment and slumped back against the arm of the daybed, gathering the blankets tighter around herself as she stared vacantly out of the window on the other side of the room. It was still raining heavily, and the low rumble of raindrops on the earth was punctuated only by a thunderous crash. She flinched as the whole cottage seemed to shake, trying to calm the nerves which cinched tight at the thought of an ensuing storm. Van looked over at her, disinterested.

"I assure you, you're quite safe in here." He returned his gaze to the fireplace, sprawling out lazily in the plush armchair, his elbow leaning on its arm, his chin resting on his unturned palm.

Hitomi had not failed to notice his state of undress since she'd awoken, but had chosen to ignore the fact that waking up here, alone, with him, in her undergarments, went against practically every rule of etiquette she'd ever thought to remember. So, in a further effort to disregard the lithe, effortlessly toned and bronzed body lounging a few yards away from where she sat, she began to study their temporary shelter. Looking round the room, she spotted her skirts, blouse and jacket hanging nearby. She cleared her throat.

"Was it… was it entirely necessary to undress me?"

Van's gaze remained on the fire.

"Entirely." He muttered, unmoved, with no further justification.

The governess fought the urge to harrumph, crossing her arms beneath the blankets that covered her.

"Well, surely my clothes are dry by now. How long have I been asleep for?"

The Viscount looked out the window, to where darkness loomed, black as death, on the other side of the glass. He sighed.

"About five hours."

Hitomi's mouth popped open. Appalled, ready to scold him for not waking her sooner, she scrambled to sit up quickly, but regretted it as her head began to spin. She groaned as vicious lights danced in front of her eyes. She squinted them shut, but before she could move further, felt a warm arm wrap around her shoulders and a cool palm settle on her forehead.

"I would urge you to stop talking, but I know you'll continue, so there's really no point." Hitomi forced one eye open to gauge where he was, but only caught sight of a smooth, tanned shoulder. "What you must do, however," He continued to murmur in her ear, "is lie down."

She felt him manoeuvre her body onto the cushions.

"Don't tell me what to do." She ordered pathetically, not even bothering to struggle as her head continued to implode.

"I wouldn't dream of it. Now shut up and go back to sleep."

She really should have argued, but found herself drifting back into the abyss almost immediately. As her senses dimmed, she felt a lock of hair fall over her eyes, only for it to be smoothed away by the gentle, callused fingertips of the man she most despised. How curious, she thought, that anybody, especially him, would have even bothered to save her. After everything she'd said to him, she couldn't believe he still had the capacity to be kind. Indeed, she'd thought him incapable of showing anybody sympathy. She'd thought him heartless.

And just before the darkness claimed her, she cursed fate, because now she owed him her life… and God only knew what he would ask for in return.

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When she awoke again, it only took a moment to remember where she was. This time, she made no movement, no noise. She merely opened her eyes and sighed. What a ridiculous predicament, she mentally berated as she caught sight of the ebony-haired rogue sitting opposite her. How she would manage to explain her way out of _this_ situation, she had no clue.

She squinted at him in an effort to make out his features more clearly in the firelight. Still shirtless, he was elegantly sprawled in the same chair, his legs stretched out in front of him, his chin still resting in the palm of his hand. And before Hitomi could ask him what on earth the time was, the Viscount emitted a light but unmistakable snore. It seemed that, after hours of watching over her, he had finally fallen asleep. She peered at him through the semi darkness.

His features, usually held and checked so carefully, so often set in a crafted mask that disguised every weakness, every flaw, seemed so different in sleep that she barely recognised his face. He looked so… young, so... _helpless_. The tension and calculation in his brow no longer remained, and those dark, predatory eyes were closed off from the world, seeing nothing but the rapturous darkness of dreams. He seemed more handsome now, at peace with the world, than she had ever remembered seeing him, the dim glow of the dying fire highlighting the cut of his jaw, the shape of his slightly parted lips. She sat up carefully, not wanting to wake him as she continued to regard him in the silence.

His hair seemed to have dried haphazardly, and Hitomi suspected he had been running his hands through it constantly as he'd waited for her to awaken, since it appeared to be sticking up every which-way. Several locks still fell in careless waves over his forehead, making his innocent state seem rather more sinful. But it was she who was presently being the more sinful of the two. Indeed, even in sleep he tempted her beyond bearing. She swallowed as her gaze dropped from his face to his neck, to shoulders that were surprisingly broad, and arms that were surprisingly muscular, trying to stop the path of her eyes as her gaze travelled across his body, trying to ignore how much her fingers itched to touch his sun-kissed skin. It was only when her gaze reached a faded scar which had once torn part of his toned abdomen, that she realised how ridiculous she was being, acting as if she had never seen a man before. And yet, in all honesty, she had never seen a man like _him_ before. For God's sake, the specimen before her was practically oozing virility, even when he was unconscious. No, she had never seen a man like him. And she had certainly never met one.

"It's rude to stare, you know."

Her eyes snapped up to his, lazy but intent upon her. She reddened. He regarded her, calmly, still leaning on his hand, his mouth slightly turned up at the corner. He'd clearly been awake the whole time she'd been studying him.

"I was…" She looked away, flustered, "I was simply— your scar, it's…" She trailed off, pathetically.

Van's smile fell as he glanced down at the hardened scar tissue that slashed across the left muscles of his abdomen. Then, wordlessly, he looked into the fire again. After a moment he cleared his throat, as if something had caught at the back of it.

"I fell into a river a few years ago." He muttered quietly, rather too calmly. "There were… rocks."

Hitomi swallowed, recalling the conversation she'd had with Chid Aston earlier that day.

…_Folken didn't listen, stood too long on the thing and it broke beneath the weight of his horse. He fell into the river and drowned. Naturally, Van jumped into the rapids after him, tried to save him. Smashed a few bones here and there…_

"My brother…" He began, quite unexpectedly. Hitomi hastily tried to school the pity from her features when he looked over at her again in the silence. Before continuing, he regarded her for a moment, noting her expression, then smiled, mirthlessly.

"You already know, don't you."

It wasn't really a question. The governess opened her mouth, preparing to denounce any knowledge on the subject, but upon seeing the Viscount's, tired, resigned expression, closed it promptly. She nodded, mutely. Van sighed.

"Of course you know. Everybody knows." He leant back in the armchair, "I suppose it was Chid who told you?"

Hitomi nodded again. To her bewilderment, Van didn't seem surprised, or even angry. He simply sighed again and looked out of the window. For a few minutes, both of them just listened to the sound of the rain outside amidst the crackling of the flames a few feet away.

"Have you…" His voice caught her off guard as he turned back to her, catching her gaze. "Have you ever lost someone?"

The question came completely out of the blue, and yet she was not fazed by it. She thought about refusing to answer it, seeing as she was still furious at him for… well, everything, and right now it seemed entirely improper for them to be discussing anything but the weather. But considering the fact that she had already broken every law of etiquette and propriety within the last two months of meeting the infamous Viscount lounging before her, and considering the fact she was stuck with him until daybreak, she gave up on decorum, and spoke frankly.

"My mother." She said, quietly, after a moment.

It was… strange, not arguing with him. Undeniably, they weren't shouting or cursing or even teasing. They were just… talking. Like civilised, human beings. It was such a direct contrast to how they had behaved only hours before, Hitomi could barely comprehend the lunacy of it.

"And were you close to your mother?" Van was staring into the fireplace again, at the rapidly dying embers, seemingly still lost within his own thoughts.

Silently, Hitomi's fingers crept to the pendant, hanging at her neck. "Well, yes, I… I suppose I was. But she died when I was seven, so I can't say I remember all that much about her."

After a few seconds, Van turned to her.

"Do you… remember her face?"

The governess blinked, and then frowned a little. She had never been asked such crudely-put questions before, not by anyone.

"Her face?" She repeated, the crease in her brow growing more severe with concentration. Van was still watching her, rather more intently than he had been. "Well… I think I do, yes." She stroked the ruby beneath her fingertips, as if it still held tangible traces of her mother. Closing her eyes, she tried to form a picture within her mind. "At least, I remember she was very beautiful. She had… long, wavy brown hair… and her eyes were green."

"Like yours."

Her eyes opened to find his gaze on her.

"Yes."

Something swelled between them briefly; something that, like so many countless other times, made her shiver. Before she could ask herself what it was, Van looked away again.

"I can't see his face anymore." He said, flatly, bringing them back, watching the flames dance before him. "I just…" He closed his eyes briefly, "I _try_, but whenever I do I can only remember…" Exhaling loudly, he ran a rough hand through his hair, "I can only remember the _last _expression he ever showed me. As he fell."

"You… you don't have to—"

"He looked so… _betrayed_." He continued, his eyes narrowing, clearly lost in the haunting recollection of his brother's final moments in this world. "As if I had somehow deceived him, as if it were _my_ fault."

Hitomi only dared to watch in silence as, with unnerving composure, the Viscount drew upon his innermost demons.

"As it collapsed, as his horse started to scream, his eyes caught mine, horrified, terrified." Van's own eyes were indecipherably vacant as he stared into the fire. "He said nothing. He did nothing to try and save himself… but those _eyes_. They pierced me. They branded me. Brother. Traitor. Coward. They blamed me." He sighed after a moment of unsettling tension, looking to the window. "The truth is, I can remember his face. I can remember everything. I just… don't want to."

He looked over at her, and this time, she didn't even try to mask the compassion in her eyes.

"But you don't _have _to." She said softly, after he didn't continue. "You don't have to remember all the time."

Van made a sound of incredulity. "I don't have much of a choice." He shook his head in resignation, "My entire family thinks it was my fault."

Hitomi frowned.

"But… it wasn't." She said, simply.

They exchanged a pointed glance before, inevitably, Van turned back to the fire. He sighed, moving on.

"What did your father do when your mother died?"

Taking a moment to think of how best to approach her bizarre life-story, the governess rearranged herself in her blankets.

"He… never spoke about it." She said, choosing not to divulge the complexities of her upbringing just yet. The Viscount certainly didn't need to know the truth. He would only look down upon the fact that her mother had been a Roma. A gypsy. And he would definitely look down upon the fact that she was the bastard daughter of Lord Farquar, a revered and respected member of high society. Nobody else knew, so it was entirely unnecessary that he, or anyone, should ever found out.

Van shook his head slightly. "After Folken died, my father locked himself in his library for three days. When he came out, we'd assumed he'd been writing letters, sorting out the will… but it turned out he hadn't done any of that. He'd just sat, and waited for somebody to force their way in and tell him it was all some kind of… joke." The Viscount closed his eyes briefly. "A week later, he still couldn't bear to look at me. Part of me thinks he still can't, even though he knows he'll die soon, knows I'm the only hope for this family." Here, the Viscount released a short, self-derisive laugh, "In fact, now I think of it, that's probably why he's always so disheartened. He has to put his faith in _me_."

Hitomi didn't say anything for a minute. They both seemed quite content to dwell on what they had each said, what the other had shared. The fire spat at irregular intervals, alive but inevitably dimming, dying. In many ways, she felt there was nothing to say. And yet it was then that the governess thought to utter the words she had sworn she would never admit to him. They were the same she'd said to Chid earlier in the day, and yet now, in this secluded, almost otherworldly place, they seemed a far less hollow statement.

"I'm… so sorry." She spoke softly.

"Mm…" He muttered, as if he'd heard such sympathetic offerings a thousand times before, staring at the fire for a moment more, before suddenly comprehending the words she'd whispered. He turned his face towards her, the firelight creating dark shadows along the frame of his jaw, the creases of his eyes and lips. The effect of this peculiar lighting made it impossible for Hitomi to see his expression, though from what she could gather from the snatches of his face she could see, he was… surprised. A moment passed between them, around them, and in that moment, as they held each other's gaze, breathed in the same damp air, parted their lips on that same breath, in that moment, they both, mutually, realised that they had shared too much. Not only in terms of their demons, their pasts, their losses and their nightmares, but also in the intimacies they had shared and forgotten, of the kisses, the lingering caresses he had stolen from her, and the ones she had willingly returned. They had shared too much, and now their relationship could never simply be as it had been; they were no longer strangers who had been tangled together in an unpleasant hiccup of fate. Now, it seemed impossible that they could forget the other, it was useless to deny the existence of… something. He had called it lust, but it wasn't so base an emotion. It was something more profound. Unfortunately, neither of them knew, at that moment, just what it was. Or what it may, in time, become.

Eventually, Van sighed and turned away. Hitomi ignored the disappointment that speared through her at the loss of his gaze.

"I don't know why I'm telling you all of this." He laughed bitterly, "I never talk about Folken. I never…" He stopped himself, staring at the last glittering embers of the fire. He closed his eyes briefly, exhaling, before he appeared to decide upon something in his mind.

"The fire's going out." He spoke after a minute, his voice soft and even in the darkness.

And that, Hitomi knew, was the last she would hear of Folken. Van had, wonderingly, opened up, unprompted, about the death of his brother, and it had become clear to the governess that the Viscount's melancholy state could largely be attributed to the loss. However, throughout their conversation, she'd had to keep reminding herself that, though terribly sad, the reason for his behaviour over the entirety of their acquaintance was not reason enough to forget and forgive all that he had done to her, said to her. After all, the events of that morning still hung heavy in her mind; his callousness, his… control over her senses.

"_**What you feel now, sweetheart… that's attraction. That's lust."**_

She bit her lip.

"_**You feel it, don't you." **_

He was still, in every interpretation of the word, a dangerous man. She watched in silence as he stood and put another piece of wood on the fire.

"That's the last one."

The comment brought her from her reverie.

"The last one?" She repeated, "But… how will we keep warm?"

Van flashed his first genuinely rakish smile of the evening, albeit more sombrely than she'd previously seen him do so.

"One activity comes to mind."

_Well, he's certainly back to his old self_, thought Hitomi, who, without thinking, made a noise of exasperation and threw a nearby cushion at him to disguise her blush at the insinuation. He deftly caught it, his eyes catching the light of his smile, which widened. Pleasantly surprised that she hadn't started gibbering at his 'crudeness', he resumed his seat in front of the fire.

"I don't see you putting forward any ideas." He added, lightly.

Hitomi frowned, "Well there are bound to be more blankets somewhere." She announced haughtily, "Or perhaps I should just throw _you_ on the fire. That would save me a lot of trouble." She covered her mouth a second later, horrified that she had spoken her thoughts aloud.

To her surprise, an undeniably attractive laugh was drawn from the Viscount, who turned towards her in his chair again, grinning. "I'm sure it would save a _dozen_ people a lot of trouble." He acquiesced, darkly amused, "But I'm very bony, you see." At this point, he squeezed a portion of toned skin from his abdomen between his thumb and forefinger. "And I'm afraid I would be a waste of kindling."

The governess couldn't hold back her amusement at the earnestness of his tone, and chuckled before she could stop herself. She couldn't quite believe it. She had never imagined being like this with him, laughing with him freely, as if they were… _friends_. She felt as if she must be dreaming. Although, in truth, his role in her dreams was never one of a mere… friend. She noticed him watching her intently when she sobered.

"What is it?" She asked, softly, tucking stray hairs behind her ears, trying to hide the blood that had rushed to her cheeks.

He continued looking at her, seemingly contemplating something in his mind. The moment stretched.

"Why haven't you married?"

Hitomi blinked at the startling question.

"I beg your pardon?"

The Viscount smiled crookedly.

"I want to know why you've chosen not to marry." He elaborated, his eyes glinting.

The fire spat again. Shaking her head, the governess guffawed. She couldn't quite get her head round the turn in conversation. "Well, I…" She stammered initially, before growing frustrated that he was even asking such a thing. "You can't really, honestly think that this… _spinsterish_ way of life is a _choice_?"

Van merely shrugged, smiling still. "Educate me."

At the nonchalant phrasing, Hitomi sat up, hastily, ignoring the wave of nausea that spiralled through her.

"Educate you? _Educate_ you?! I'll have you know, my good _Lord_, that _some_ us have more pressing things to do than prowling ballrooms night after night looking for a spouse with a suitable dowry!" She barked, suddenly very irritated at his ignorance. "_Some_ of us have to work for a living, and don't have the time to waste!"

He didn't look surprised by her passionate reaction.

"And," She continued when he made no move to speak, "To be quite honest with you, after all the gossip I've heard about mistresses and abuse and the prison-like terms of engagement, I seriously doubt whether—"

"You'll marry at all?" He finished for her, calmly.

Hitomi blinked a few times, opened her mouth, closed it again, and then swallowed.

"Well…" She continued, quietly, "Yes."

Van sighed.

"So you _have _chosen not to marry then."

The governess gave an indignant exhalation, "_No_, I said—"

"What you _said_," Van talked over her easily, "Was that after considering all the gossip that, I must tell you, is only partly true, you had chosen not to marry."

"_No_," She swung her legs over the edge of the daybed, planting her feet firmly on the floor, quite literally standing her ground. "I never said that I had _chosen _anything; I said that I _doubted_ whether I _would_ marry, thus implying—"

"That you don't want to marry." He finished easily again.

"Ugh!" Was the exasperated noise drawn from the governess, "Well, what if I _don't_!?" She demanded, standing up, disregarding her delicate state, her previous argument and her lack of opaque clothing. "What if I don't want to be a man's possession!?" She began to pace, animatedly, "What if," She continued, "I don't want to spend the rest of my life in a man's shadow, what if I want to _do _something, to _be _something, be…" She grappled for the words in the empty air, "… _independent_?!"

Here, she stopped and, as all the passion seemed to seep out of her with every passing second, added finally, "What if I want to be _loved_, and not merely… _kept_." She turned to Van, who was no longer smiling.

"Is that such a terrible thing?" She demanded, earnestly.

The Viscount was staring up at her, his curious eyes dark and intent, watching as the firelight warmed the hue of her ivory skin.

"Surely if you married for love then all of those things would be possible." He said after a moment had passed, his voice low and soft. She remained standing a few feet away, breathing rather heavily. Then she smiled in spite of herself, no real humour in her eyes.

"It's quite funny really, you know." She looked wonderingly at the ceiling, "The rich envy the poor because they can marry for love, but really…they _must _marry for love. There's nothing else that binds them; no dowries, no titles… no demands save those of their employer, if they're even employed at all." At this point, she shook her head and returned her gaze to his. "I mean… I have this wonderful choice that the gentry can't have… and yet, I have _no_ choice because…" She shrugged, "If nobody chooses to love _me_… then…"

She trailed off, looking towards the fire, which was about to perish in the obstinate dampness of the cottage. The rain still beat a heavy staccato upon the window frame.

"There are plenty of substitutes for love." She heard the Viscount mutter. A few moments later, the fire extinguished completely, the embers dying from orange to deathly black. The speed at which Hitomi felt the cold was startling. So startling that she quite forgot the thread of the conversation. She'd also overlooked the fact that she'd dropped her blanket upon standing up, and now crossed her arms about herself in a sorry attempt to warm up.

"You can't possibly be cold already?" She heard him ask in superior tones, his voice no longer coming from where she imagined he had been sitting, but somewhere nearer. She looked around, disorientated in the gloom, frowning.

"The blankets, I dropped them somewhere…" She knelt down, her hands blindly searching the floor, "And don't forget that I'm hardly wearing—"

_Any clothes. _She failed to add, swallowing. She searched the floor in silence for about half a minute, to no avail. With a sigh, resigning herself to the fact that she would probably have to do without the blankets, she stood up again. However, the delicacy of her state caused her to lose her balance slightly, and she promptly began to topple over, letting loose a high pitched squeak.

She fell into a brick wall. Or rather, a person who _felt _particularlylike one.

"Easy." Van muttered, effortlessly stopping her from falling, bringing his arms around her back to steady her against where she'd fallen; against his chest. Hitomi was thankful for the darkness at this point, because she was certain she'd gone as red as a tomato.

"S-Sorry…" She stammered, and was about to move briskly away when a bolt of lighting cracked the heavens outside. She squeaked again as it set the air alight in white for a split second, flinching and inadvertently spreading her hands across the broad expanse of bare chest before her, clutching onto it for dear life. In her semi-petrified state, she realised that it was comfortingly… warm. Solid. The scent of the rain still clung to his skin, and his heart beat slow and steady beneath her ear as darkness crept around them once more. She released a shaky breath, unconsciously moving deeper into his embrace. His arms tightened around her.

"Are you alright?" Hitomi _felt_ rather than heard the voice that reverberated through his chest.

Forcing herself back to reality, she remembered that she had been trying to move away. She had to get away. She must get away from him quickly. Otherwise he'd find out—

Another thunderous boom broke the rain's tattoo on the window.

"Oh _God_!" The governess released another cry, clinging onto the form in front of her instinctively. She barely felt it when his hand settled in the centre of her back, seemingly in a gesture of comfort. She didn't even care that it went entirely against propriety, she was so frightened. So lost in memories. Darkness fell again.

"You're full of surprises, aren't you." Came the low, apparently rather amused, rumble against her ear again.

A shrill "Mm!" was all the governess could manage in her present state of terror. After a few moments had passed, she still seemed in a condition of immovable fear, strangely now leaning on him more fully for support.

"It's alright, sweetheart, it's passed now." Van muttered softly against her temple, "It's alright."

He attempted to move her away slightly, but the governess merely dug her nails into his skin, whimpering. "No, don't— don't leave me, please… oh _God_!"

Van looked down, with growing concern, upon the face currently attempting to burrow into his chest. He frowned in the darkness. "Hitomi, what—"

Another deafening crash.

"_Please_!" She shrieked, and for the first time, Van saw that her eyes were closed. He peered closer, trying to make out her expression in the dimness.

"Hitomi?" He brought one of his hands from her back in order to tip her chin up a little. His eyes widened. Silent tears streamed down her face, and yet her eyes were… it almost looked as if she were asleep.

Another roaring clatter.

The governess squeaked one final time before, suddenly, collapsing fully against him. Van stifled a curse as he caught her weight without difficulty, doing his best to ignore the complete lack of clothing between them. After taking a restorative breath, he looked down. Her face was an expressionless mask, the anxious crease between her brows relaxing with every moment. It appeared that the very consciousness had been drawn out of her by her own fearsome reaction to the storm.

"My back can't take much more of this, you know." He muttered softly and, as if she weighed nothing, swept her into his arms. After securing her in his embrace, wondering what in hell's name had just come over the most steely-nerved woman he knew (apart from his mother), he turned to the daybed beside them and attempted to lay her down upon it. However, as he tried to lower her to the cushioned softness, she made a noise of distress and, seemingly still half-asleep, wrapped her arms behind his neck in an effort to remain with him. Van laughed roughly as her paper-thin chemise rasped against his skin.

"Sweet, you have to let go, otherwise I can't—"

"Don't leave me…" She whispered, pleading, her tears hot against his neck.

The Viscount, growing increasingly more unsettled by her proximity with each passing second, urged her downwards.

"Come on, chick, it's better this way, you—"

Her arms wound tighter behind his shoulders. After a few seconds, he released an exasperated sigh.

"You never make things easy, do you?" He whispered, complaining to her unconscious form as he lifted from her from the daybed and walked to the enormous chair he'd been sitting in before the fireplace. Sighing again, he carefully sat, balancing her in his arms until he felt comfortable enough to settle her across his lap. Immediately, she huddled against him, whimpering as another rumble of thunder shook the cottage.

"Shh, it's alright." He murmured against the top of her head, not really knowing what else to do or say in the current situation. He reached down beside the chair, grabbing his jacket from the floor to drape around them both in the absence of the elusive blankets.

After a few more minutes of trying to settle her, he leant his head against the backrest of the chair, figuring there was little more he could do. Knowing he probably shouldn't risk sleeping with her so precariously resting atop him, and yet feeling the unmistakable claws of fatigue digging at his senses and dragging at his consciousness, he closed his eyes and felt himself falling. He was only awake a few moments longer, but before he dozed off, could have sworn he heard the governess mutter one last plea against his skin:

"Come back… Mama."

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She had awoken bathed in the crisp morning light that streamed in from the window, alone. Upon immediately seeing her unlikely rescuer, thankfully entirely dressed at this point, already settling his horse on the other side of the window, she hadn't even bothered to ask herself how she'd ended up in the chair before the fire, and had gone about donning her clothes rather hastily in an effort to return to the manor as quickly as possible. Needless to say, Hitomi had no recollection of the storm. The last thing she remembered was a rather heated conversation about her marriage prospects (or lack thereof), after which she assumed they had each gone to sleep.

When she had stepped outside, he had greeted her pleasantly enough before looking up at her rather peculiarly, as if he'd expected her to say something important. She had uttered a brusque, "Good morning", which had caused him to narrow his eyes slightly, whether in confusion or annoyance she could not easily tell. She turned, intending to wait within the cottage.

"Did you sleep well?"

His voice had reached her, halting her progress to the door. She didn't turn.

"Yes, thankyou."

Another question came before she had been able to move again.

"Any bad dreams?"

At this, the governess had turned around to regard his expression, which was rather indecipherable.

"None at all…" She had said, turning suspicious, "Why do you ask?"

He'd frowned slightly, before noticeably coming to some sort of conclusion. His expression relaxed, his lips twitching faintly.

"Just wanted to make sure that bump on the head wasn't bothering you."

She eyed him warily for a moment as he went back to tending his horse, before shrugging off his oddly phrased concern. They returned to the manor shortly afterwards, Hitomi upon the horse and the Viscount dutifully leading it by the reins on the ground. Neither uttered a word to each other until they saw the door to the manor's conservatory open, and Van's mother all but fly out of it towards them, her ebony hair and bright blue skirts streaming out behind her.

"Let me handle this." The Viscount muttered up to her, barely perceptively, as his mother neared. The mélange of concern, anger, relief and frustration that crossed the usually impenetrable loveliness of Lady Fanel's features was a sight to behold, or so the Governess thought to herself.

"_Mon dieu, _Stefan! Where in heaven's name have you _been_?!" The good lady, almost of the same height as her wayward son, waved her arms emphatically.

"You cannot just… disappear and assume nobody will worry!"

The Viscount rolled his eyes at her paranoia. "Mother—"

"Don't you roll your eyes at me! You of all people should know why I fret; just imagine—"

"Er… M-My Lady?" Hitomi interjected upon seeing the Viscount's expression darken. Two ebony-topped heads turned in her direction. Varie looked up at her as if she hadn't realised the governess had been there the entire time. Then her expression changed to one Hitomi could not interpret as she looked from her, to her son.

"Ah." She said, quietly. "I see."

"Oh— no." Hitomi defended ardently, attempting to get down from the horse and failing, "No, please, it's not like that at all! You must understand; I fell of my horse yesterday afternoon and…" She looked to Van, whose expression was as unfathomable as his mother's. She noted the family resemblance before continuing. "Your son found me unconscious and took me to the little cottage on… on the, uh…"

"The far side of the wood." Van assisted, smoothly.

"Yes," She nodded to him, "he took me there and cared for me throughout the night." Upon realising this phrasing was slightly misleading, she tried again, cursing the blood that rushed to her cheeks. "That is, he watched over me so as to ensure my _injury_ did not worsen."

Her gaze once again fell on Van, whose eyes widened as they met hers. A moment later, his mother cleared her throat, causing him to look her way.

"Is this true?" All the anger in her tone had vanished, replaced with genuine concern. The Viscount nodded. With barely a second's delay, the Countess immediately threw her hands in the air, turning again to Hitomi.

"Dear child! We must get you into bed at once!"

Hitomi, still atop the horse, gestured defensively in the negative. "Oh, I can assure you that's not necessary—"

"Not necessary?" Varie made a very French noise of disbelief, "The girl is mad. Alors, Van, get her off that beast at once!"

Wordlessly, Van complied and, letting go of Lucifer's reins, walked round to where both of Hitomi's legs rested over the saddle, for she'd ridden with the two on one side. With his mother watching anxiously, he reached up to her waist and brought her down to earth. Their bodies brushed for an instant, and their gazes caught. She had to catch her breath when his fingers flexed of their own accord, blushing as her skin heated beneath his hands, his touch all but burning through her riding jacket. She heard him inhale sharply. After an instant that somehow left them both reeling, Van let go of her, bowed crisply, and began to walk Lucifer to the stables without another word or glance in her direction.

"Come, Cherie." Varie went to her at once, placing a supportive arm around her shoulders as the governess watched Van disappear across the field. "Can you walk?"

Hitomi nodded in the affirmative, even though her legs had, a moment earlier, seemed ready to collapse beneath her at what she'd seen in Van's eyes. Heat. Varie began walking them slowly towards the house, telling her of all the party's anxiety at their absence. The governess was barely listening. Merle had apparently been distraught, though Hitomi could guess easily enough that jealousy had fuelled the emotion.

What the Countess did not voice, however, was the drop of cynicism that remained in her mind as to the truth of the governess's tale. Varie had, for lack of a better word, experience, in matters off the heart, and she had, with decided interest, noted how the calloused, roughened hands of her son had stayed but a moment too long upon the governess's waist than was deemed proper. This, in itself, was no great shock to her, for she was not naïve, and knew her son was a damnably talented rake. What was surprising, however, was the fact that she could not remember a time when he had seemed quite so eager to hide and mask his interest in any woman of eligible status. She frowned, telling herself that _it_, whatever _it _was, would pass. But she knew she had not imagined the tension that had gripped the pair, which still emanated from the grown woman, caught in a reverie, beside her. Unfortunately, she knew the look that rested in the chaperone's eye. She knew what it meant. Or rather, what it would mean, soon enough:

Heartbreak.

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It took Hitomi an hour to finally convince the Countess that she did not need bed-rest. Unfortunately, by that time, she had already been accompanied upstairs by a gaggle of maids, been bathed and clothed in an expensive silk nightgown (one of the Countess's she assumed), and all but forced into the bed in which she now urgently made her case.

"Please, your grace, this is all entirely unnecessary, I'm _fine_!" She gestured to herself before dropping her hands upon her lap. Varie only smiled with motherly affection as the maids bustled about the room, collecting clothes and stoking the fire in the grate.

"My dear, you may indeed be 'fine', but as hostess of this party I took a solemn vow to care for my guests as if they were my own family." Here, the Countess inclined her head slightly towards her, "And I daresay that after spending an entire evening alone with my son, you are no doubt very stressed and very tired."

Hitomi's eyes widened, but as she opened her mouth to protest, Varie held up a gentle hand to silence her.

"Sleep for now, rest until the afternoon, and I can promise that you'll enjoy the ball far more this evening." She smoothed the covers at the far end of the bed, still smiling softly.

"Ball?" The governess echoed, her tone anxious. She'd had no idea. Varie turned back to her.

"Why, yes." Replied the Countess, regally lifting her chin a notch, pride investing her features, "It is the same every year, my dear. On the last evening of the Fanel house party, we have a grand ball. It's the highlight of the season, if I do say so myself." She grinned, modestly. Hitomi merely stared at her in horror. It sounded like hell.

"And," Varie continued, disregarding the governess's muted reaction, "Now that the storm has passed, by the end of the afternoon all the absent guests will have arrived, which will make for a grand crush!"

Hitomi could only nod and force her lips into a spiritless smile.

"Oh, that reminds me, they'll be starting to arrive any minute; you must excuse me dear." She patted Hitomi's arm gently, heading towards the door. However, before she reached it, appeared to hesitate. After a moment, she turned back to the governess.

"I intend to tell the other guests the story you gave me as to what happened last night." She said, her tone light and yet firm, elegantly clasping her hands together in front of her. "But whatever else may have happened between you and my son, I urge you to… contain."

Hitomi blinked in astonishment. "I-I can assure you that—"

Varie's lips curved gently, her hand coming up in a gesture of silence once again.

"As long as I have your word."

What exactly was the Countess insinuating?

After a rather surreal moment, Hitomi nodded.

"Bon!" Lady Fanel's face lit up in an unnervingly dazzling smile, "Now, rest well. I'll send a dress up to you later— oh! And some jewels! Do you have pierced ears? Oh, never mind, I'll just pick out a _mélange _of my old favourites."

Positively beaming, she swept out of the door, bidding the maids to follow. Hitomi could only frown as she was left alone, wondering what on earth had just happened… and what on earth she had just admitted to.

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"They say you're the hero of the hour."

Van barely glanced up at the sound of Chid's drawl, hearing his old friend drop gracefully into the armchair opposite him. They were in the library, generally the Viscount's only escape from the mass of guests that had been arriving since the morning.

"Daniel's here." The blonde lord stated, fixing his ice blue eyes on the book Van was currently absorbed in.

"Hm." Was the Viscount's reply to all the above, before he went back to reading.

"He says he has news from London."

"Hm."

"Important news."

"Hm."

Chid raised a brow, "He says the owl was a baker's daughter."

"…Hm."

"You're not listening to a word I'm saying, are you."

Van blinked and finally looked up from the book. "Hm? What about owls?"

Chid shook his head in dismissal, "Just a little Shakespeare to gauge your level of consciousness. What the devil are you reading that's so immersive?"

Van glanced at the clock on the mantelpiece before returning his gaze to the tome in his hands, "Just doing a little research."

Peering at said tome, Chid read the title aloud. "An encyclopaedia of phobias…" He smiled, wryly, "Don't tell me, you think there's a goblin under your bed again."

The Viscount's lips twitched, "Not since I was eight and you _told _me there was a goblin under my bed, Aston."

Chid sighed nostalgically. "Your mother was so furious when you stuck a candle beneath your mattress and almost set the cat on fire."

Van grinned, "That she was. And poor Mittens was never quite the same again." After a moment he sobered slightly, flicking back to the cover of the book he held, "Actually, it's not to do with me. It's for a… friend of mine."

Chid raised a cynical blonde brow. "Oh? And what is this _friend _so frightened of?"

"Storms."

He said the word as if he was still surprised at it. And, in truth, he was. The speed at which the governess had gone into a trance-like state of terror was… astonishing. In a flash (quite literally) she had gone from perfectly normal to a flittering nervous wreck, clinging onto him like a frightened child. Moreover, the fact that she had no recollection of that entire portion of the evening was very strange. Although, Van acquiesced, it was probably better that way. If she'd remembered the manner in which she'd clung to him, sleeping curled up on his lap, she probably would have swooned anew.

"Interesting." Chid said, though his tone betrayed that, at least to him, it was not any such thing. "Almost as interesting as the story I just heard from your mother." Smoothly, he shifted positions in the chair, leaning forward to pluck the book from Van's unsuspecting hands. Ignoring the Viscount's complaint, he placed it on a nearby table, and leant back again, settling comfortably. "Tell me about the governess." He demanded, casually.

Van looked to the clock on the mantelpiece again. Four fifty-five. He'd have to start getting ready soon.

"There's really nothing to tell." He said, simply, standing up from the chair and heading over to a bookcase. Chid regarded him. A sceptical brow arched.

"Are you telling me," He began, acerbically, "that you spent nigh on sixteen hours in the company of the same attractive woman who you practically mauled not two nights ago in the music room… and 'there's really nothing to tell'?"

Van turned back to him.

"Nothing happened." He shrugged, "You told me not to go near her; I simply heeded your advice. And besides," He added, "she doesn't matter anymore. I've changed my mind."

Chid frowned.

"Changed your mind about what?" He asked, warily. Van sighed, going over what he'd discussed with the Earl the previous morning.

"My father has... _decreed _that I must marry before he dies." Here, the Viscount leant a shoulder on a nearby bookcase, running a hand through his hair anxiously, "Something about begetting an heir…"

"A veritable deadline." Chid muttered, before clearing his throat, "But what does that have to do with your taste in women?"

Van fixed his gaze upon the carpet.

"Do you remember how originally I wanted to convince my parents that I was courting Merle Rogers?"

"The little redhead… yes, I do remember."

"Well," Van fought the urge to grimace, "I think I'm going to have to marry her."

Chid didn't say anything for a moment.

"What about the governess?"

Needless to say, this was not what Van wanted to hear. He cast his arms up in frustration.

"What about her?!"

"Don't play the fool, Van. You're researching her damned phobias, surely that tells you something."

Van guffawed, not bothering to try and correct him. He looked moodily to the window.

"It tells me that I have too much time on my hands, that's all."

After a moment, Chid rolled his eyes, rising from his own chair.

"Well, if you're deadly serious about marrying Miss Rogers, I would cut all ties with the obstinate chaperone." He straightened his jacket, brushing the invisible dust from his sleeves. Sighing, he checked his pocket watch, "Or if you're dying for the spinster's blessing, you could always convince her of your… inherent good qualities." He looked up, lips twitching.

"You'll have to elaborate." Van caught his gaze, warily. Chid's smile grew.

"Convince her you're a true gentleman." Here, the Duke's heir facilitated an elegant bow to demonstrate. "Charm her, but let her think it is without intent. Do you follow?"

Van's expression turned sceptical as he crossed his arms over his broad chest. "So you're suggesting that I… court her without actually… _courting_ her?"

"Indeed."

Van remembered the words they'd exchanged in the rose garden the previous morning. He frowned. "I think it might be a little late for that."

"Then convince her you've reformed." Chid replied easily, moving towards the door. "Beguile her with your generosity, your compassion. And, for God's sake," He turned back to the Viscount briefly, "apologise for your appalling behaviour thus far."

"I've tried." Van murmured, distracted.

"Try again." Chid added smoothly, "And again, until you can do it without accidentally insulting her."

The Viscount didn't even bother to ask how Chid knew him so well. He sighed as the blonde lord left the room, muttering a preoccupied goodbye as the door closed. His mind was a mess. Of course, it would be easy for him to play the gentleman; outwardly, he had always been one. But convincing the governess he had inwardly changed from an infamous London rake to an honourable suitor over the last twenty four hours… needless to say, it would most certainly be a challenge. However, the fact was, he had to do it. He needed her blessing and eventually her permission to court Merle privately, otherwise society, and his father, would never approve. To get it, he would have to demonstrate his 'new-found morals' with finesse and charm. The ball was the perfect opportunity to start. He glanced at the clock again, realising he had yet to dress.

"God help me." He uttered beneath his breath as he walked to the door, wondering what in hell he'd just got himself into when his mind seemed to be screaming only one thing:

Run.

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**BOOOOM.**

**What did you think? Honestly, tell me true. I can handle it. **

**I really hope it was readable. Am I doing ok? Tell meeeeeeeeeeee.**

**More on Hitomi's back-story in the next chapter, I purposefully tried to tease you with an incomprehensible snippet - I hope you appreciated my cruelty.**

**Toodles! **

**P.S. Regular updates coming throughout the rest of the summer - it's a revelation.  
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	7. Chapter 7

**A/N:** **Hello all you lovely people. I'm back! Apologies for not updating sooner, I've just started uni, so I've quite literally been on another planet since mid september. A very drunken, hungover planet. But anyway, this chapter has sucked the life out of me, and it's taken a lot of effort to finish, so I hope you love it. I don't love it, because I'm sick of looking at it on my computer screen. I literally had two MASSIVE breaks between writing it due to a loss of interest, and I can really tell where I stop and start.**

**In fact, at the end I've included a little... excercise that really helped me with my writer's block. I suggest it to any authors out there who lose their muse amidst writing a chapter. It's simply... well, an interview with _Suitor's_ Van Fanel. Yes, I know it's lame and ridiculous, but it really got me back into thinking through his character. And it reminded me that he was a complete bastard. :) I hope it makes you smile.  
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**Anyway, I really really REALLY hope you like the chapter. Unfortunately, I think in the next few days I'll change the rating to M, just incase I get any backlash for being slightly too... free with their feelings. They _are _passionate creatures, don't you know. **

**Warning: There's baaaaad language, matuuuuuuuuuure situations and stroooong emotions towards the end. If you don't approve, then simply don't read. Thaaaaanks!**

**Right. Enjoy!****

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"_Let him kiss me with the kisses of his mouth: for thy love is better than wine." **– Song of Songs.**_

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"I-I couldn't possibly…"

Hitomi trailed off weakly as she stared at her full reflection in the mirror. The woman who stared back, dressed in a scandalously well-tailored evening gown of burning scarlet which swirled lovingly around every curve and draped the floor in fine silk, wore an expression of such undiluted terror that the maid who was pinning the garment in place almost burst into laughter.

"Lady Fanel has a beautiful wardrobe." The servant smiled warmly before sobering slightly, "And you would do well not to offend her by refusing to exhibit it."

"But I…"

The governess swallowed, following the line of the two clipped peacock feathers which framed the top edge of the corseted bodice. 'Scandalous' did not begin to describe the amount of skin she was showing, and the silken sleeves which draped loosely off her shoulders and fell midway down her bared arms did nothing to increase the modesty of the outfit. She sighed, inadvertently watching the swell of her meagre bosom. Then she winced.

"I look like…" Her brow puckered as she tried to find an appropriate comparison. The style of the outfit was alike to none she'd ever seen before; certainly not in the last decade. However, the way the silk clung and then bunched was more flattering than she had first envisioned. And the colour was… something else. To her own eyes, she looked like a wanton; like a mysterious traveller, an exotic outlander…

"…like a gypsy." She finished.

The terror in her expression fell into nothingness. Her eyes glazed over.

"Miss?"

She heard the maid's voice at the back of her mind, but was so transfixed upon her own reflection that she barely noticed the impatience lacing its tone. Her eyes widened at the image she saw in the mirrored glass. Her mother regarded her silently through it.

"I can't…" Hitomi swallowed, shaking her head in an attempt to clear it and willing the sting behind her eyes to subside, "I can't wear this." She attempted to reach round to her back and undo the stays, suddenly rather frantic. "I couldn't possibly appear in front of all those people dressed this way, they'll—"

The maid, who had spent the last forty minutes painstakingly fitting the garment to the governess's slender measurements, stilled her frenzied hands.

"My lady," She said softly, yet with an undertone of formidable iron, "you must not insult the Countess in such a way. Are you implying that her clothes are not tailored well enough for your tastes?"

Hitomi shook her head wildly again, almost dislodging her complex coiffure. "Oh, no! No, please don't misunderstand— I-It's beautiful, _really_, it's just..." She clasped her hands over her chest, "It's only that… that I just… I…" She sighed exasperatedly, all the tension leaving her body in one breath.

"I'm a governess." She muttered quietly after a moment, looking at the floor. "I'm a governess, and governesses do not wear… _this_." She gestured to herself before her arms fell to her sides, limply.

"I'm mutton dressed as lamb."

The maid's expression lightened somewhat.

"Dear, it's a masquerade ball. Tonight, they're all mutton." Her mouth tilted, cheekily.

Hitomi blinked.

"M-Masquerade?" Relief, anxiety and confusion coursed through her all at once. She'd had no idea, although the design of her dress suddenly made more sense. "But… I don't have a mask."

Here, the maid's smile widened. Wordlessly, she turned, extracted a long velvet box from somewhere behind her, and handed it to the governess, who regarded it warily. After drawing her fingers along the downy casing, she opened it. And gasped.

Inside was the most beautifully crafted mask she had ever seen. Dozens of skilfully-clipped peacock feathers had been intricately interlaced and arranged to cover a simple black domino. They curved into a beautiful flare on the left side which turned upwards, making the top edge practically diagonal. The feathers' eyes glimmered darkly in the candlelight. Hitomi was lost for words. She swallowed.

"Tonight, you are not a governess." The maid said, softly.

Hitomi looked up into the older woman's smiling eyes. Understanding passed between them; the understanding of the unprivileged.

The maid lifted the mask out of the box and carefully pinned it into Hitomi's sophisticated coiffure before they both turned to regard the mirror. The effect of the costume was startling. Alluring.

"Tonight, you are a bird of paradise. Relish it." After smoothing down the skirts of the gown, the servant smiled knowingly.

"Just be sure to watch out for the wolves."

-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-----8------8-----8-----o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-

He was the devil.

Which was ironic, since his behaviour tonight had to be nothing short of angelic. Nevertheless, Van had donned the trappings of Beelzebub for the masquerade ball, albeit of a more sophisticated, refined hellion. Dressed from head to toe in black, he made a rather striking demon, his untamed ebony hair blending so seamlessly with the costume that it was a wonder he hadn't been born for the role. Indeed, he hadn't even bothered with a mask; he was no doubt considered a veritable Prince of Darkness without one.

Chid stood stoically by him, not having dressed-up for the occasion, save for the white demi-mask he donned. Standing side by side, the childhood friends looked almost like a mirror image of the other; one, darkness, the other, light. The former was staring intently at the entrance to the ballroom. The air swam with eccentrically-clad bodies around him.

"Where the hell is she?" Van muttered, impatiently. Nobody noticed the subdued outburst, except for Chid, who sighed and took out his pocket watch. He regarded it with disinterest.

"Procrastinating, if she's wise." He drawled, clicking the time piece closed again as his gaze flickered to the dance-floor. "If I didn't know any better, I'd say you were nervous, Fanel."

Van shot him a disparaging glance in the negative.

Smiling gently, Chid shook his head, somewhat amused.

"She'll be here." He said, simply, watching the crush breathe and swell around them. "You know she will. And then…" He momentarily took in the Viscount's solemn attire, "…you can _bedazzle_ her until the cows come home."

His gaze still on the door, Van ignored the sarcasm and quirked an ebony brow. "I fear the cows have already arrived."

Chid frowned beneath his mask and followed the line of the Viscount's gaze. Merle Rogers had just entered the room, surrounded by a gaggle of gawping, giggling debutantes. Sighing, the blonde lord fought the urge to roll his eyes.

"And so it begins." He murmured, picking up a flute of champagne from a passing footman and moving hastily in the opposite direction. Van smiled wryly, and was preparing to follow his friend to safer pastures when something – some_one_ – suddenly caught his attention. A straggler in the very group he was attempting to evade.

His eyes widened as she came into view.

A flash of deep scarlet.

A glimpse of delectable, ivory skin.

A _frisson_ of awareness that shook him to his bones.

Before he knew it, he was rooted to the spot.

She was masked, but although the elaborate domino concealed her identity, it could not obscure her reticent confidence, nor the striking elegance with which she moved. He could tell in an instant that she was no mere debutante. Her gown gleamed crimson in the generous candlelight, the skirts not puffed missishly around her, as was the fashion of the season, but instead hugging her hips, her thighs, wrapping her in a delectable cocoon of satin. Greedily, his eyes travelled upwards, to the gown's elaborately embroidered corset, devilishly moulded to her graceful curves. The two long feathers lining its uppermost edge did nothing to hide the perfectly-formed swell of bosom beneath. He swallowed, and realised his mouth had become uncomfortably dry.

_Temptress_.

She surveyed the enormous room, unhurriedly, as if she had all the time in the world. As if she did not notice the dozens of eyes fixed upon her, watching, waiting for her to move.

_Siren_.

He had to meet her. Had to speak to her, know her, touch her. She was everything he dreamed of, everything and more.

Without wasting another second, he pushed his way ungracefully through the crush, wondering who she could be, whether he'd met her before. Somehow he doubted it, considering the fact that, if he _had _met her before, he certainly would have remembered. Which begged the question: where had she come from?

_Heaven_.

He broke free of the crowd and saw her immediately a few feet away, turned towards the string quartet. The group of debutantes had left her. She was alone. Just how he wanted her.

Willing his thudding heart to slow, he approached her back, stopping as close as he dared. His senses reeled at her heat; her scent. He watched the hairs whisper over her nape, and had to quell the sudden urge to place his lips there; had to stop himself imagining her rapturous shudder of response. Unconsciously, he steadied himself with a deep breath.

She heard it.

And when she turned, her eyes collided with his.

They held him from beneath her mask, unmoving, unashamed.

…Those eyes.

He'd know those eyes anywhere.

Van felt as if he'd been punched in the stomach.

"You…" He breathed, not quite understanding, and yet fleetingly aware that he'd known all along.

Hitomi smiled, mirthlessly.

"Good evening, Lord Fanel."

The Viscount simply stared, entranced, enraptured. She was…

_Stunning._

It was almost as if she belonged in such attire. As if the exotic colours were in her blood. In her soul. There was something different not only in the way she looked, but also in way she held herself, in the way she moved. It was as if she had come alive.

Hastily, he cleared his head. Remembered his plan.

"Good evening." He replied, before cursing his inability to come up with anything more suave.

The governess merely regarded him mutely from beneath her mask.

"Did you require something?"

Van blinked at her coldness, then flashed a roguish grin.

"Only your delightful company, Miss Kanzaki."

He could have sworn he heard her stifle a snort, though her face betrayed nothing. Smiling gently, she looked past him, into the crush.

"I fear you must have more pressing engagements, my Lord."

"Not at all."

_The only engagement that's pressing me is the one you must consent to. _He smiled, tightly.

Her bewitching green eyes fell upon him, calm; cool. She leaned marginally closer, her exotic scent making his pulse race anew.

"If that is the case, Lord Fanel," Hearing his title from her mouth almost made him wince, "then why is every eye in the room fixed upon you so intently?"

Van didn't even turn around.

"They're not looking at _me_."

He imagined she was frowning.

"You haven't even—"

"They are staring at you, Miss Kanzaki, debating whether you are likely to have a chaperone." His grin turned wicked. "Or a sizeable dowry."

She didn't react, at least outwardly. Van's gaze flickered over her bodice, straying to its sinful décolletage. His body tightened as he caught her eyes once more.

"How lucky for me then, my Lord, that this is a masquerade, and nobody will discover that I have neither."

With that, she raised her chin defiantly and walked straight past him, seamlessly melting into the ever-swaying sea of bodies. He merely turned and stared after her, rendered momentarily speechless at her self-assurance. Then he blinked once, twice, shook his head, and followed, straightening his cravat with a practiced flare of his fingertips.

_I need to charm her. Charm her, dammit, not infuriate her. _

The thoughts urged him into action. He pushed his way through the crush and spotted her after a few moments, already surrounded by a gaggle of swaggering dandies. Each tried to catch her downcast emerald eyes, pleading readily for a space on the dance card which dangled helplessly from her wrist. He frowned when he recognised many, if not all of them, as some of the most witless, brainless fops of London. To his immense surprise however, the governess wasn't flustered, nor even the slightest bit bothered by their practiced heckling. She merely remained looking towards the floor, sometimes glancing out past their jovial smiles to the ballroom beyond.

"You flatter me, Gentleman." He heard her say huskily, as he neared. "But I must decline your… _generous_ invitations."

Van smiled, finding himself rather amused for reasons he wasn't entirely sure of. He entered the circle of eager gentleman, all eyes turning to him. All eyes, that is, except hers.

"Begging your pardon, my Lady," His voice carried over the others' easily. The governess looked up, expression carefully crafted and held in elegant indifference. Van caught her gaze in his as he bowed gracefully, extending his hand to her as he straightened.

"Would you do me the honour of joining me for the next waltz?"

Behind her mask, she must have frowned. Her eyes seemed to consider his proposition momentarily, the shadowed emeralds fixed resolutely on his claret gaze. The surrounding gentleman seemed to hold their collective breaths as she came to a decision. Without warning, she nodded.

"Very well."

Van smiled as she took his hand, only then realising that he had been holding his breath with the rest of them. Luckily, the dismayed outcries of shunned suitors covered the sigh he expelled it on. He turned to her as they strayed away from the others, and was about to make a witty remark when she cut in before he could do so.

"Do not think for a moment that I do this out of anything other than desperation." She whispered, her voice low, her tone dangerous. "I simply never realised the… _trials _of eligibility."

The Viscount led them to the dance floor, trying to ignore the heat of her hand on his arm. He fought the urge to take it in his own, peel back the red satin glove, and raise her fingertips to his lips.

_Focus, Godammit._

"In that case," he started, catching the direction of his thoughts and positioning the two of them close to the other couples, "It is entirely my pleasure to assist in your escape."

She looked him up and down, raising a brow.

"'Escape' is hardly the word." She muttered, somewhat exasperatedly. "What are you supposed to be anyway? A pallbearer?"

Van's lips twitched, "Not exactly."

When he said nothing more, she smiled slightly.

"And you're not simply going to tell me, I suppose."

Wordlessly, he put his hand on her waist, taking her delicate hand in his own before he raised them, conjoined, into position. He smiled, boyishly.

"Mystery, Miss Kanzaki, is the heart of La Mascarade." And with that, he whirled them into movement as the music began.

It was only after several bars of twirling that he finally slowed to initiate conversation. Unfortunately, the action inadvertently focused his senses on her, making him realise how easy it would be to close the distance between them, stroke her neck, kiss her—

"Are you enjoying the evening, my Lord?"

The Viscount gave himself a mental shake, attempting to clear his head.

"Indeed, how could I not?" He said, his façade of easy charm so practiced it was effortless to assume, "I'm dancing with one of the most beautiful women in the room."

It wasn't until he said it that he realised he actually meant it.

Indeed, she was the most stunning creature he'd ever laid eyes upon, let alone seen in his paltry ballroom. Every time he looked at her, he ached. Ached to touch, to taste. He found himself taken aback at his own passionate reaction to the usually outspoken governess, and yet could not ignore what sang through his veins, what pulled and pulled at the reins of his control.

_Hunger. _

"You desire something." She said, lightly, catching his attention. "What is it?"

Every muscle in his body tightened, locked, reacting to her damnably innocent words. His head was suddenly overrun with images, noises… positions—

"What I _desire_ would—"

He checked himself when he noticed her arrested expression.

_What I desire would make you blush._

He stared briefly at his hands, one clasping hers and the other resting upon the delectable indentation of her waist, and swallowed, curbing his treacherous tongue.

"What I desire," He began again through gritted teeth, schooling his features as he drew her into the next turn, "is to prove to you, somehow, that I am not simply some brainless, witless, skirt-chasing rogue."

The governess still looked away from him, though the hint of a smile tilted her lips, stained pink from the punch she'd been sipping. He only realised he was staring at them when he noticed they were moving.

"I never said you were brainless, my Lord, nor witless." She replied, easily, "But I regret to inform you that I already know you are a 'skirt-chasing rogue', and there is no way in hell you will convince me otherwise."

The lightness of her tone did not wholly cover the steel rippling beneath her words. Van frowned slightly.

"You seem utterly convinced of my wickedness, Miss Kanzaki." He murmured, whirling her masterfully through the other couples.

"I am." Was her simple reply, "Utterly."

She finally met his gaze.

Beneath her feathered mask, her eyes were hard, cold. Not filled with the fire he knew so well. The crease in the Viscount's brow grew more severe.

Silence ensued for the remainder of the waltz, although Van kept his eyes on her every move, her every breath, searching for a clue, a hint as to what she thought of his unprecedented behaviour. Sometimes catching his gaze, often looking away, she followed his lead with grace and undeniable expertise; she was a beautiful dancer, and together they twirled and whirled skilfully, wordlessly, stunningly through the throng. By the time the music began to slow, they had attracted quite a crowd of spectators, some of whom were practically gushing with jealousy over the mysterious woman in the Viscount's arms.

Van slowed their movements as the waltz drew to a close, purposefully leading them towards a less densely populated corner of the dance floor. He felt her try to move away, but before the icy governess could even think of shaking him off with a brusque adieu, he pulled her against him. And regretted it instantly.

"I…" He began, trying to ignore the feel of her body pressed along his so intimately. He attempted to focus on her eyes, which met his with the same coldness he'd started to detest. Her displeased expression spurred him into action.

"You don't know me. Not really." His voice lowered to a gravelly whisper as he eased his hold on her slightly, "You think you do, but… what with last night, I… I'm asking— begging you… to give me a second chance."

He watched her eyes widen at his sincerity. After a moment, she glanced around to make sure nobody was watching them, and sighed.

"A second chance to do what exactly?"

The Viscount smiled subtly, sensing victory.

"To make a first impression."

And with that, he released her, swept an elegant bow and retreated into the crush, leaving her to ponder what, exactly, he had meant.

-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-----8------8-----8-----o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-

_A second chance… to make a first impression._

"Yes, well, wordplay is hardly going to manage that." The governess whispered sarcastically, to nobody in particular, watching as the Viscount swept seamlessly back into the milling crowd. He had been acting strangely all night, but this… this was very unexpected. It was almost as if he was trying to be… well, a _gentleman_. At the same time, his painfully emotional confession of the night before still echoed through her heart and, in all honesty, part of her already felt that her perceptions of him were altering, though she was certainly loathe to admit it. What was more, the memory of his touch was becoming dangerously vivid, and she hated the way her thoughts strayed to him constantly. She had grown to hate catching herself smiling at nothing, or imagining his sinful caresses at utterly inappropriate times.

"My dear, what on earth have you done to yourself?"

Before she could think further on the matter, Hitomi blinked in surprise and turned around to behold a rather large, rather short woman, masked in a jewel encrusted domino that glinted in the immense candlelight, smirking. Hitomi smiled back.

"Good evening, Liddy." She curtseyed.

Liddy, the infamous Widow Damask, eyed her costume with undisguised interest. When she finally caught her gaze, her eyes sparkled with intrigue.

"I knew it."

Hitomi waited for her to continue, and frowned when she didn't.

"Knew what?" She asked, looking around as if her old friend and confidante was discussing somebody standing behind them.

Liddy's smile merely widened at her confused reaction. She leant in a fraction closer.

"That beneath the exterior of that wallflower governess lay the most beautiful creature in London. Now, get drinking."

Hitomi's eyes widened at the compliment, as well as the other… suggestion. Liddy merely fanned herself more vigorously. Then, to the governess' immense surprise, winked at her before gliding over to some other poor, unsuspecting acquaintance. Hitomi could only stare after her, in shock.

A footman carrying a tray of champagne flutes halted before her, as if on cue.

"A drink, madam?"

"Er…"

The governess glanced subtly around the room, noting countless women indulging in the alcoholic treats. Most of them seemed to be surrounded by leering dandies, touching their backs or their arms in fairly scandalous places. Somehow, the sight only strengthened her resolve.

"Well, when in Rome…" She muttered to herself, taking a crystal glass. The footman smiled and inclined his head to her, promptly continuing his circuit of the room. Unfortunately, his circuit must have been remarkably small, because he seemed to return to her fairly often, and by her fourth glass, she was feeling very strange indeed. She made her own circuit of the room at this point, a little unsteady on her feet, ignoring the glances that dozens of men flashed her way, and the gasps of their outraged partners. She tried to tell herself that she wasn't searching for anybody in particular, but could not disregard how she scanned every face for the Viscount's arresting features.

"Can I help you, my Lady?"

A low voice asked, rather near her ear. She turned to regard a very attractive gentleman dressed in fine dark evening attire with brown, chestnut hair. Under his simple black mask flashed the most vividly green eyes she had ever seen. She smiled, lazily.

"I daresay you can." For some reason, talking coherently seemed rather a chore when one was pleasantly warmed by bubbles and bubbles of champagne. The gentleman grinned at her. Then, without warning, took her gloved hand in his own and brought it to his lips.

"Marcus Hemington, at your service, Miss…?"

"Kanzaki." She said, plainly disregarding the fact that she really wasn't supposed to tell anybody her name tonight, just in case they knew of her relationship with Merle. Hemington's eyes widened as he kissed her satin-covered knuckles.

"I see." He tucked her hand in the crook of his arm without asking her permission to do so, his eyes glinting, "And how can I assist you this evening, Miss Kanzaki?" He smiled at her again. She couldn't help thinking it looked slightly strained. Not at all like Van's smile. Oh god, and now she was constantly calling the Viscount by his first name. And imagining his smile! She really should never have drunk anything at all.

"Well, I would quite like to know where the terrace is." She pointed at the ceiling for reasons unbeknownst to her. "You see, I believe I require some fresh air." She whispered, giggling, and leant on him slightly more than was proper. It was a strange thing, losing the ability to control your own thoughts, not to mention your own body. She felt his arm tense beneath her fingers.

"Indeed. Let's find it together, shall we." His voice seemed to change slightly, though Hitomi was too lightheaded to notice the alteration in his countenance. He had begun leading her away from the crush before she really realised what was happening, and found herself at the terrace doors almost immediately. He opened them for her, and drew her out onto the patio. Several couples were out taking the air, speaking in hushed tones, relishing the moments of privacy away from the prying, judgemental eyes of the haut ton. She briefly felt a pang of envy towards them, which was swiftly replaced by confusion when Lord Hemington led her in the opposite direction, down a set of steps that led onto the grass.

"I— er… where are we going?"

The man holding her arm chuckled smoothly.

"Somewhere more secluded, my dear." He answered, and for the first time, she could hear the crooked smile in his voice. She ignored the gathering dread that pooled somewhere low in her stomach.

"I think here is fine." She stopped him as they passed an old oak tree about a dozen metres or so from the balustrade wall. She let go of his arm, moving towards the tree. "Thank you. I should be alright now."

To her annoyance, he followed her anyway.

After a moment of rather uncomfortable silence, Hitomi turned round to see him still there, removing his gloves rather efficiently. He didn't seem quite so dashing in the darkness. The moonlight carved out his features a little too harshly, made his eyes a little too bright to read. She crossed her arms and held herself to fight the chill that had suddenly invaded her bones.

"I'll be alright now." She repeated, slightly more obviously. He clearly hadn't heard her before. Oh, how she wished her head would stop spinning. The stranger looked up at her, seemingly amused. He closed more of the distance between them.

"My dear, you can stop playing coy with me. We are alone now." He reached for her shoulders. Suddenly very aware that she was indeed _very_ alone with a complete stranger, barely dressed and not at all sober, Hitomi practically leapt away from his touch, only to come into solid contact with the tree behind her. He followed in an instant. And then she was trapped.

"Ah, so you _want_ to play, do you?" His hands settled either side of her face as he moved his body up against hers. "I didn't put you down as one of those whorish types."

She flinched, gasping as her heart jumped into a heavy, rapid beat. Panic gripped her. Blind panic.

"N-No, you've misunderstood—"

"Oh, I don't think so."

He all but slammed his lips into hers, taking them roughly, almost painfully. She whimpered and pushed at his chest, to no avail. His hands travelled to her shoulders, gripped them hard enough to bruise. She ripped her mouth away from his long enough to protest a stronger: "No!", but was swiftly silenced as he took her mouth again, savaging her lips. She beat and beat at his chest but he wouldn't move. She screamed against his lips again and again. Without warning, his hands left her shoulders and roughly pulled at her corset, dragging it down. Her immediate reaction was what she should have done in the first place.

She kicked him as hard as she could between the legs.

He stumbled back with an unattractive "OOF", and she bolted. Unfortunately, he was exceptionally fast, and caught her so easily she cried out, only to be shoved back up against the tree. What was worse, now they were at an angle where the tree-trunk concealed them both. Nobody could see them from the house.

"You little bitch!" Hemington sneered, his hair askew, his breathing heavy, his features screwed up in unapologetic rage, "Do you honestly think I'm going to let a lowly _governess_ reject me?!" Her eyes widened as he raised his hand towards her face. For a moment she thought he was going to slap her. Instead, he ripped off her mask roughly, baring her face, her sullied identity to him.

"Oh yes, I know exactly who you are." He spat, "I've had my eye on you this whole weekend." He pressed himself against her, the evidence of his desire making her stomach drop.

"Stop!" She tried to shout, though all that left her throat was a croaky sob as she moved to slap him. He deftly caught her hand, twisting it painfully behind her back.

"Don't do that again, my love," He whispered harshly near her ear, the warm puffs of breath on her neck making her nauseous. "Or I'll make this very unpleasant for you."

It was already so unpleasant for her that the thought of him consciously making it worse frightened her half to death.

She shoved at him as he moved in for another kiss. His body was hard as rock, unmovable. He pushed her back against the tree, her head connecting with it in a way that made her sob.

"You are _dirt_!" He sneered, and pushed her back again, "Do you understand?! You belong in the _gutter_, little better than a whore, and with less dignity." He grabbed her chin, forcing her face towards his. "You should feel _honoured_ that I want to fuck you."

He pulled her corset down, damaging the fine feathers that lined the top edge, baring her to the night and making it exceptionally hard to breathe. She whimpered and tried to cover herself, but one hand was still in his confinement, and the other was swiftly pulled away to join it. She saw him grin in the darkness, feral and frightening. Fleetingly, she thought of the times she'd been with the Viscount, the times he had tried to seduce her, had kissed her, touched her. He hadn't smiled like that. When Van had smiled at her, she'd melted. When he'd touched her, her skin had warmed where his fingers trailed. When this beast smiled at her, she wanted to slap him, and when he touched her… she turned to ice.

This was so different. So very different.

Hemington grabbed her violently, raked his dull nails across her skin. At first she fought it, tried to struggle… but then she stilled. What was the point? If she struggled, it would only make it worse.

"Stop…" She whispered once more.

Then she was numb.

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When Chid had told him that Hitomi had been seen leaving the ballroom in the company of Marcus Hemington, Van had actually ground his teeth together so hard that his jaw ached.

"_Stupid woman_." He growled as he tried to casually sprint towards the terrace doors without attracting attention. He had been looking for her all evening, and of all the men she could have gone off with…

Everytime he had come into contact with that excuse for a man, Hemington, the cad had only talked of forcing himself upon unsuspecting women, both married and unmarried, describing the lewd and undignified debauchery he'd gotten himself into. What was worse was that he had glorified the actions as if they were… _impressive_.

Van's mind raced as he practically stumbled out onto the terrace, his head whipping this way and that in an attempt to locate the bastard. The couples who were taking the air looked at him briefly, but turned away as if unwilling to involve themselves in whatever trouble he'd landed himself in this time.

He swore heavily under his breath and darted to the balustrade, leaning over the edge in an attempt to see if Hemington had led her down onto the grass. He squinted, seeing nothing but darkness. Nothing abnormal struck his senses. Cursing again, this time out loud, he smacked his fist on the waist-high stone, and was about to turn away when he heard something. It was the smallest of noises, high-pitched and strained, one that most people would dismiss or remember as if having imagined it. But he heard it. And he knew it was her, crying out for help.

Heart beating fast, adrenaline and dread coursing through his blood, he turned and ran down the steps two at a time. When he reached the grass, he stopped, listening for her… and for him.

There was another whimper of distress. His eyes glanced to the oak tree.

There.

White hot rage burst alight inside him. He was upon their silhouettes before he could draw another breath. There was no doubt in his mind as to who they were. He couldn't make out much in the darkness, but hoped to god he wasn't too late.

"What the—" Hemington's irritated voice barked as he caught sight of the Viscount. Before he could say anything further, however, Van grabbed his jacket roughly and violently hauled him away. Hitomi cried out behind him in what could only have been relief, scrambling to cover herself. The sound made the Viscount's blood boil.

"Fanel?!" Came Hemington's shocked realisation, "What the bloody hell are—"

Van grabbed his neck and squeezed. Hemington choked on his words, grabbing at his arm for mercy. The Viscount lowered his voice to a lethal whisper.

"If you so much as lay another finger on Miss Kanzaki again, Hemington, I swear on my brother's dead body I will hunt you down and kill you."

Hemington gurgled something incomprehensible. Van tightened his hold on the cad's throat, his expression almost savage in its utter hatred and disdain.

"Do you understand?" He asked calmly, brutal steel beneath his words.

"Yes, _Yes_!" Was the strained reply he got from the desperate Hemington, who had begun to turn an impressive shade of purple.

With a snarl, Van released him grudgingly, shoving him away.

"You're scum, Marcus. Pack your things and get out of my house." With that, he turned and left him. Hitomi was still backed up against the oak, now shivering violently in the cold air. The sight of the confident, opinionated governess brought to such shattering depths broke his heart. Without wasting anymore time, he quickly removed his coat, taking her arms gently and bringing her forward enough to drape it around her.

"It's alright, sweetheart, it's over now." He breathed as he rubbed some warmth back into her upper arms. She was cold and still as he held her.

From behind him, a bitter Marcus snorted.

"Ah, so she's _your_ whore, is she?" He sneered, "I thought you had better taste, Fanel."

In under a second, the Viscount had turned and struck him down with one faultless punch to the head. With a heavy thud, Hemington fell to the floor, his nose bleeding. He groaned unattractively and tumbled into unconsciousness. Van turned back to Hitomi, who was staring at the grass, or rather, at nothing. He approached her, slowly, as he would a startled rabbit, as if she would bolt or disappear at any moment.

"Hitomi?"

She didn't even blink at the use of her first name. A very bad sign, indeed. Cautiously, he closed the distance between them and put his arm around her shoulders. She winced.

"What did he…?" At her lack of reaction, he sighed.

"Come on, I'll take you inside." He urged her, gently, into movement, but suddenly felt her hands gripping at his waistcoat, stopping him, clutching onto him for dear life.

"Not back there." She breathed, "Not back in there... please. I can't... I can't--"

He shushed her gently, rubbing circles over her upper back. "I know, it's alright sweet, we're going to my study. I'll take you the back way." He tried to move her again, but she wouldn't budge. Then he tried again, and she whimpered like a frightened child.

"Hitomi." He said, turning her towards him carefully, his voice low and oddly full of emotion. "He's gone. It's over. I'm here now." He held her upper arms again. "I'm here."

And that, apparently, was enough for her. She nodded meekly, silently. He led her around the side of the house, towards a set of double doors which led to his own private library. She wasn't crying, which surprised him, but she was weak. He knew her energy, her very spirit, had been stolen away. He held her to his side, literally holding her up so she wouldn't collapse, shaking, upon the dewy grass. When they finally reached the doors, he opened them, shoving the heavy curtains aside as he brought them both in. Thankfully, the fire had been lit, though it was dying somewhat. He led her to the large sofa before the hearth.

"Come on, sweet, let's sit you down… there we go." She sat without fuss, still silent, still shaking. After regarding her for a moment, almost double-checking she was really there, he turned to tend to the fire.

The adrenaline, the fire in his own blood, was dimming, draining, and now that he could hear his thoughts over the beating of his heart, he realised his mind was a mess. What had just happened? His reaction had been… primitive. Animalistic. He poked weakly at the coals in front of him. The rage he had felt at the thought of her being defiled, being touched by somebody else… it had blinded him. A primal, possessive fury had taken over his body, his very being. He couldn't explain it, couldn't understand it. Couldn't understand why this woman, this impossible, ordinary woman, made him feel this way. Made him… _jealous_.

He expelled a frustrated sigh and leant his arm on the mantelpiece. After a few long moments, he turned his head back to her. She hadn't moved. His jacket had fallen off her, and her eyes stared blankly into the hearth. The fact that she was there… the fact that he had saved her brought him relief such as he had never felt before. However, he didn't know what Hemington had done to her, _said_ to her prior to his intervention. The pain in her eyes made him dread hearing of it.

"I'm not ruined, if that's what you're wondering." The governess said in a monotone, reading his thoughts as she stared vacantly into the fireplace. Van took in the words without any outward reaction; inside, his lungs finally relaxed enough for him to draw a real breath. Initially, he said nothing, however, after going over to the drinks cabinet, pouring out two glasses of fine whisky and handing one to her, he attempted a casual remark

"All I'm wondering is how efficiently I can murder that good for nothing c—"

"How did you know?" She interrupted him, mid curse, finally catching his gaze. He blinked back at her.

"How did I know what?"

"How did you know that I had… that I was with him?" She asked, cradling the whisky glass in her hands. She had yet to take a sip.

Van took a mouthful from his own tumbler.

"Chid told me he'd seen you leaving with him." The Viscount replied simply, pretending to inspect a nearby bookcase. Hitomi looked down at her hands.

"Why did you bother to come after me?"

Van turned at the question, suddenly rather uncomfortable and very irritated that she was asking at all. He narrowed his eyes at her.

"Because Hemington is a cad and I knew he would try to take advantage; would you rather I had simply let you be?" He asked, knowing he was speaking too harshly with her, knowing he was close to shouting at her to think better of him.

"No, I… I didn't mean…" She trailed off, weakly. "I just… I didn't think anybody would notice or care or…"

Van watched as her face crumpled in misery. "It's only that I… He…" She dropped her glass onto the carpet as her hands came up to cover her face. It was almost a relief that she had burst into tears. Feeling something was far better than feeling nothing. Of that he greatly knew. He walked quickly over to her, disregarding the fact that the crystal glass had cracked and the carpet, now stained, had been imported from Turkey.

"What did he do? For God's sake, I'll kill him. I'll _kill _the bastard; what did he—"

"No, _please_ don't, I…It's not what he did, it's… he _said_…" Her hands fell from her face, leaving her lips open to the air, trembling, ready to recount the experience to him. "He said that… that…" Exasperatedly, she wrapped her arms around herself, standing up without warning and walking a few paces away from him. She couldn't seem to get the words out. He understood, but his impatience was growing, along with a dormant urge to punch Hemington in the face several times more. He closed the distance between them, approaching her back. His hand reached out to her shoulder but she flinched away. After a moment, he heard her speak, her voice low, spiritless.

"He said I should be… _flattered_ that he wanted to… to…" She cradled her head in her hands once more. Van's expression hardened.

"And it made me realise… perhaps I _should_ be flattered." She continued, whispering into her hands barely audibly, at the end of her wits. "Perhaps that's the best offer I'll ever get. If I'm nothing, then… I _deserve_ nothing. That's all I'm good for. I—"

In a heartbeat he had grabbed her, turning her to face him.

"_No_." He said emphatically, grabbing her upper arms. When she winced and he noticed there were bruises there, aside from wanted to strangle Hemington all over again, he loosened his grip slightly. "You are _not _nothing, Hitomi, do you understand?!" He sighed exasperatedly as she shook her head in denial. "Believe me," He followed her desperate movements with his eyes, trying to catch her gaze, "You... you're an intelligent, sophisticated, elegant… _beautiful _woman, and I… If I wasn't…" Here, he stopped himself; took a breath. His gaze dropped to the necklace hanging at her throat. The ruby glinted, blood red against the swell of her bosom. He swallowed, altering what he'd been about to admit to her, and to himself. "Any man would be lucky to have you." He finished, quietly.

After a moment, he lifted his gaze to catch hers once more. She had stopped shaking her head. He watched as her eyes narrowed momentarily in disbelief. She seemed to decide something in her own mind. Something clicked within her. Or snapped. Vaguely, he felt her arms clutch the fabric at his chest. Then, without warning, she leant into him.

"Kiss me."

His eyes widened. She had breathed the words so quietly upon his lips that he'd barely heard them. But he'd certainly felt them. His chest tightened. He couldn't possibly…

"I… Hitomi, no, you're not—"

Her hands travelled to his shoulders, and had pulled him towards her before he could finish. He stifled a groan as their bodies came into full contact.

"Hitomi—"

"I want to get rid of him." She whispered against his mouth, "Don't you see, I… need you to… to…" Her features creased as she fought tears again, "I need to you to show me…" Her eyes met his, glistening, desperate. Their mouths were achingly close, sharing ever-quickening breaths. "I want to feel something else. Just… please just make me forget. Make me forget everything except this."

She kissed him before he could stop her. And her lips were so torturously soft, so warm and desperately seeking against his that he almost let her carry on. But then he remembered; remembered that he couldn't do this. Not if he wanted her permission to marry Merle Rogers. She was in shock, out of her mind with fear and humiliation. She didn't want this. Not really. As if he were ripping a part of himself away, he urged his lips from hers.

"I can't." Drawing in a ragged breath, he looked to the floor beside them, "You don't know what you're doing, I can't—"

She turned his head towards her, one hand on either side of his face, and took his lips again with a gentleness that slew his ability to refuse her. He couldn't stop himself responding. Christ, he couldn't have stopped himself for anything. His lips moved in sweet answer with hers, his arms coming around her of their own accord… and yet still his mind was screaming 'no'; this wasn't right. She made a maddening sound against him, a desperate plea for more of him as she wound her hands around his neck. He shouldn't… couldn't do this. And if he didn't stop now, he wouldn't be able to stop at all.

"_Hitomi_." He pushed her away to an arm's length, his breathing fast and light, "You're not… there's…" His grip tightened on her arms, "For the love of God, I'm trying to _prove _myself to you." He tried to ignore her hooded eyes, her reddening cheeks. She swallowed.

"But you _have_." She leant in again, and he couldn't stop her. "You saved me." She breathed, her fingers idly tangling in the hairs at the nape of his neck. "Again."

He let loose a frayed breath, his eyelids falling closed from the feelings she was suddenly, effortlessly evoking within him. He hadn't a clue as to what had come over her… but the way she was making his heart beat a relentless staccato within his chest was… overwhelming. For Christ's sake, even the innocent movements of her delicate hands on his skin had him breathing in triple-time.

"I...." His eyes opened, catching the darkness in hers. "I don't want to hurt you… I mean, Christ, you've just been—"

"Shh." She stopped him. He didn't move. Not even when she pressed her lips, motionless and warm, against his.

"Do you _want_ to kiss me?" The pressure of her mouth over his sent his pulse racing.

His breath caught against hers.

"You know the answer to that." He couldn't lie. Not anymore.

He saw her eyes close in what looked like relief.

"Then for God's sake… do it. Do it now."

He did. And never had surrender been so sweet.

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If this was her only chance, then she would take it. If this was it for the rest of her life, if this was the best she could do… she would live for tonight and be grateful. She would cherish this memory, and make it last.

His kiss was better than any mere recollection she'd locked away. She had told herself that his lips made her warm, but now, with the intensity of his feelings, the intensity of hers, his kisses made her feverish, made her burn. His breath was hers, his heart echoed the heavy beat of her own, and his lips… they stole the very soul from her body. It was at this point she realised that she was in dire danger of losing her heart to them as well.

He had called her beautiful, told her that any man would be lucky to have her. She knew such things were not true, but the fact he had said them in comfort convinced her that his character was changing. He was not the same rogue he had been two months ago. Or at least, his heart had warmed. His hands tightened around her waist, not in the way that Hemington's had clawed at her, but in a way that made her feel secure, wanted. She gasped as his mouth ventured down to her neck, finding an excruciatingly sensitive spot. His kisses were devastating. Ruthless. Unbearably irresistible. She was appalled to realise that she wanted more of him, wanted to feel more of him, from him.

His mouth found hers once more, and she responded with a breathy moan of appreciation. There would be no arguments tonight, no insults, no banter. There was only them, and the glorious feeling of reciprocation. She realised, fleetingly, that this was actually the first time she had _wanted_ him to kiss her, the first time she had initiated the action herself. This, combined with his inability to resist the offer, made their meeting all the more thrilling.

He pushed her back until she collided softly with a bookcase, growling as their bodies jolted together. She expected him to move back from her, give her room to breathe, but he did no such thing. Instead, his body remained along hers, fires bursting from wherever they touched. He surrounded her, gave her breath as his lips moved upon hers over and over and over again. Her hands moved of their own accord to undo the stiff cravat at his neck. Their mouths separated briefly. Van laid his forehead against hers, eyes closed and breathing erratic as he watched her focus on unwinding the long length of black fabric under his chin. When she'd removed it, he inhaled deeply.

"That's been bothering me all evening." He breathed, smiling crookedly. The smile dropped when he saw her undoing the buttons of his shirt.

"Wh— hold on a second, sweet, I don't think—"

She put her hand under the fine linen, over his heart. He seemed to lose the ability to talk at this point.

"Wait…" Was all that escaped him in an unsteady whisper as she spread her fingers across his remarkably toned chest.

She ignored the instruction and sought his lips again, but he turned away and she caught his cheek instead.

"Wait." He repeated more firmly, taking hold of her wrist, stilling her tickling fingers on his skin. After a clouded moment, she blinked.

"Why?"

He looked at her with eyes that held fires as dark as the night.

"I told you, I don't want to hurt you." He said, looking down, his voice low and soft, "And if you do that… I…" He trailed off, his hand sliding from her wrist to cradle her fingers, bringing them away from his skin. She swallowed.

"You can't hurt me. Not anymore." She replied simply, catching his gaze as he looked up again. The pain in his expression irritated her. She didn't want his pity. Her fist clenched in his hand as anxiety claimed her features. "I don't understand what you're trying to _protect_ me from."

His eyes narrowed at her heated tone.

"You don't understand?" He repeated, harsh and disbelieving, tightening his hold on her wrist. "You don't _understand_?" Again, he bit the words out. The flame in eyes burned more intense.

Hitomi regretted the stubborn look she gave him. They were still close, still touching, still breathing heavily, and as a result of this, she could _feel_ the tension take his muscles, sense the frustration smouldering under his skin.

"I could have killed Hemington right in front of you, are you aware of that?" Van started suddenly, his voice barely above a whisper, low and dangerous. Hitomi tried to ignore the images invading her mind, looking away from his burning eyes.

"Do you know what he was going to do to you?" He pulled gently at her arm, trying to force her to look at him, "How easily he could have…" When she insisted on looking away, he dropped her arm completely and moved back with a noise of frustration, leaving her body cold and shaking as he turned away. "I mean… what were you _thinking_?! You… Men like him are _dangerous_, Hitomi, and you have to realise that you shouldn't go anywhere near—"

"But he's gone now!" She interrupted him, closing the distance between them again. "You said it yourself, he's gone. So who can you possibly—"

He turned in a heartbeat, tugging at her waist, bringing them together again. "Christ, Hitomi, are you _blind_!?"

Her breath caught. His eyes were harsh, predatory, more dangerous than she had ever seen them.

"I'm trying to protect you from _me_! From _this_!" Disgusted with himself, he grabbed her hips and brought them crudely against his. She bit down on her lip, fighting a gasp as sensation speared through her belly and up her spine. He watched as her expression altered, surrendering under the onslaught of her senses, watched as her eyes closed in shame.

"I don't want to hurt you…" He repeated, the anger ebbing out of him, his hands still on her hips, his body still against hers. "Because I know you… and I know you deserve better than a quick fuck in a library."

The word made her flinch, even though the images it evoked in her mind made her shiver. Flashes of his skin against hers, his hair beneath her fingertips, his gasps in her ear—

"So don't make me want it." He whispered, desperately, his mouth achingly close to hers, "For god's sake, don't make me want you more than I already do, because it… sweetheart, we can never do this."

Hitomi swallowed. Her head swam with confusion. Her body ached for something, and it frightened her that she didn't know what it was. It was wrong, utterly crazy that they had ended up here. They had met two months ago; within that time, they had argued with each other, insulted each other, offended each other… at some points they'd even been friends. And, of course, neither one of them could forget the kisses they had shared. It had been wrong from the start. She was a governess, he was heir to an Earldom, an aristocrat, a damaged beast of a man. So why, why was it that when he told her that nothing could ever happen between them, her heart felt as if it would tear in half? Why was it that now, when she finally wanted him, when she finally knew he cared for her in some way, he refused her? She exhaled shakily.

"I'm not afraid of you." She breathed. He smiled mirthlessly.

"Don't say that." He brought a hand up to her face, tucking some stray hairs behind her ear and resting his hand behind her neck. "You know it's not true."

They looked into each others eyes, sensed the heat, the undying warmth between them. She didn't know who leant in first. All she knew, all she felt, were his lips on hers, and the most achingly sweet, potent kiss she had ever shared with anyone. She knew he was holding himself back, reigning in his demons. Her own body screamed out for his, only to be denied again and again. He was right. They could never… never be together. It would be wrong. They hated each other really, this was just… foolishness.

But for those few short seconds, as their lips found each other in the glow of the dying fire, it felt like the only natural, right thing in the world. His touch, his scent, his taste, the way she could feel his heartbeat… it was all perfect. It was… everything.

They parted, but their eyes remained locked.

"Go." He breathed.

Vaguely, she recalled the last time he'd ordered her to do such a thing. It had been when she had called him a coward. When she'd thought she had worked out his game. It had only happened a mere fortnight ago, and yet it seemed like an eternity had passed since then. The dynamics between them had changed so much, but the heat that she had always regarded as hatred, as utter disdain of the man standing in front of her, had remained. Now, though, she knew it as something very different.

Surreal as the moment was, she obeyed. She nodded, her fingers unclasping the fabric of his shirt, and moved away. He watched her go, as she'd expected he would. However, just before she reached the door leading to the rest of the house, she turned. Their eyes met and locked. Understanding passed between them. They would forget this night. They would forget these feelings. They would forget the passion that beat hard in their blood.

"Van, I…" She started, but realised there was only one thing she could say.

"Thankyou."

He nodded. He knew why she was saying it.

And with that, she left, venturing into the darkness of the unlit corridors.

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It had all happened so quickly. So damned fast. She could barely remember why or how it had started. But she remembered the feeling of his lips on hers. She remembered the way he had held her. She remembered…

And as she rattled down the driveway in the carriage the next morning, with Merle at her side and the sky clearing overhead, she knew:

He would remember too.

-

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**God, the suspense is killing me. Is it killing you? If I'm honest, that's what I was going for. (Not literally killing you - that would clearly be mass genocide.)**

**Anyway! Did you hate it??? Please tell me you didn't hate it. **

**I didn't really put much backstory into this chapter, simply because I needed a break from it, as did you probably, and also I wanted it to be more about the character's emotions, instead of their TERRIBLE SECRET pasts. **

**Right, if you've read it, review it. Just say "Good." or "Bad" or even "pancakes" if you want. I always want pancakes. **

**OH YES, here's the little writer's block diddy I crafted. It's stoooopid, but I sort of love it. Enjoy! (By the way, "KH" are my initials, just to avoid confusion.)  
**

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I enter the parlour. A raven-haired man with a rather devastating smile looks me up and down before exhaling a cloud of smoke.

"Lord Fanel?"

The gentleman's smile widens.

KH: Well, my Lord, let me firstly say that thus far, the Fanel houseparty really is a treat. Our readers are wonderfully intrigued to know how you manage to co-ordinate such a lavish affair.

VF:_ (After exhaling another puff of smoke) _It's all my mother. I suggest you should ask her.

KH: Er… yes, alright. W-Well, are you enjoying the party, my Lord? The ball tonight should be brilliant. What are you going as?

VF: Enjoyment is something I rarely feel. I've been to so many of these damned soirees that the ennui is beginning to grate. As for my costume… _(He smiles again, and I hate to admit that I blush) _I couldn't possibly disclose that information to you. Mystery is the only vaguely exciting thing about the evening; I would hate to obliterate it so soon.

KH: _(I clear my throat)_ I-Indeed, my Lord. And have you er… got your eye on any of the ton ladies? There is talk of you and one certain Miss Rogers, I believe.

VF: You believe, do you. _(He sits forward in his chair) _Well, I wouldn't go around 'believing' everything you hear, Miss…?

KH: _(Realising I haven't introduced myself, and can't anyway)_ Oh, I, er… I _am_ sorry, but I can't exactly tell you. It would be highly improper, you see.

VF: _(Scratching his chin, smiling slightly) _You know, you remind me of somebody.

KH: Oh? _(I smile)_

VF: Mm. (His grin widens before disappearing completely, to be replaced with a look I can only describe as pensive) A very odd woman.

KH: Oh. _(My smile falls)_

VF:_ (He laughs gently at my expression) _No, no. She's odd but she's very… _(Again, the thoughtful air claims his features. He seems to be searching for the right words.)_… intriguing.

KH: _(Slightly confused)_ Intriguing?

VF: _(He shrugs)_

KH: I see… _(I really don't)_, and is this… "intriguing" woman a guest here?

VF: Mm. _(He looks out of the nearby window)_

KH: _(I resist the urge to roll my eyes) _Well, can you give me her name?

VF:_ (Looking back at me, smiling lop-sidedly) _I'm afraid not.

KH: _(I can't help but smile myself, even in my frustration. Charming devil.) _But… _why _not? This is an interview, you do realise.

VF: Oh, I do realise. _(He takes a puff of his cigarette and exhales, not adding anything further.)_

KH:_ (Shutting my notebook)_ I want to get something exciting for the readers, but… my Lord, you are rather unhelpful, you know.

VH: I know. _(He says, as if he's resigned himself to the fact, then picks up a book from the table next to him and is seemingly immediately engrossed.)_

Rather put out, I sigh, stand up and put my notebook away. As I move to leave the room, I hear a low chuckle behind me, and can't help but smile in spite of myself as I walk out of the door.

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**Haha. I told you it was stupid. :)**

**Toodles!  
**


	8. Chapter 8

**A/N:** **Uhhm... hello. **

**I er... feel a bit sheepish. IT'S BEEN TWO LONG YEARS, but I am still alive, still baking cakes, and most importantly, still obsessed with finishing this story. I HAVEN'T ABANDONED YOU. **

**I'd like to take this opportunity to thank everybody for their wonderful, beautiful comments during my hideously long absence. I was actually very touched by everybody's concern and enthusiasm, and the private messages I received made me smile and regain the love I had/have for these characters. I will finish this story within the year, you have my word. There's lots more to come. **

**I'm not even going to make excuses as to why I haven't updated in so long. I'm living in Japan at the moment and it's all very stressful BUT, writing this is a lovely break from the surreality of this country, so not to worry. **

**This chapter. Well. Over the last 2 years it has been constantly changing. It's contained gunfights, trysts in an art studio, hiding behind potted plants, being locked in cupboards - IN OTHER WORDS IT'S CONTAINED EVERY SINGLE POSSIBLE THING. But I've sorted it now. I am happy. It doesn't contain any of those anymore, sorry. I'll tell you what it does contain though... INFORMATION. I'm sort of dumping it on all of you unceremoniously, but it needs to be said before I can continue with the best bits. YES THERE ARE BETTER BITS TO COME. **

**Right, here we go, 2 years in the making... Suitor, Chapter 8. (In reality, it's chapter 8.6. Yes, it is the 6th version, made up of 13,000 lovingly typed words.)**

**Enjoy!**

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"_God gave us memory so that we may have roses in December" - __**James M Barrie**_

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"_You must leave this place." A tall, red-haired woman known as Henry (supposedly short for Henrietta, though nobody really knew) had whispered, "If you don't leave now you'll come to 'er end, cherub." The woman glanced in the direction of the bed. Hitomi could not bring herself to do the same. She stared at the dirty floor, stunned. Speechless. Her mother was still alive in her own mind, still breathing. Not silent atop a pile of dirty sheets and linen with a motionless infant placed in her cold arms. She would never be that. Lifeless. Dead._

"_Darlin' listen to me." Henry's voice barely permeated her senses, "If they find her dead and you still 'ere, you're in big trouble. Understand?" _

_It was true, she would never be able to work her way out of poverty at 7 years old, and the sooner they knew that, god knows what they'd make her do. She'd heard horror stories of children being worked to death in factories. That is, if they weren't beaten to death instead. Or starved. Slowly, she nodded. At the assent, Henry continued. _

"_Well we've got a plan, see. We, that is the other ladies and I, have agreed. We'll make a distraction so as you can escape this shit 'ole." She swore unapologetically, not that Hitomi cared, "We told your mum we would do all we could to 'elp you. Well, this is the best thing we could ever do for you, sweet." _

_After beholding Hitomi's vacant expression, Henry sighed, crouching down so that their faces were level, trying to smile encouragingly though she was missing several teeth. "You know cherub, your mother told me to tell you that... when she... " She stared intently at her for a moment. Then she swallowed, sighed, and started over. Even a child knew that not all things could be sugar-coated._

"_She told me to tell you, chick, that if she were to pass away this very night, she wanted you to 'ave this." Henry brought out a dirty-looking envelope from her skirt pocket. Hitomi regarded it in awe. "'Ere, take it, s'yours." _

_She took it gently, the last piece of her mother she would ever hold. She turned it over in her hands, noting the scribbles on the back and the weight inside. _

"_She said 'er necklace was in there, you know, the red one she 'id from them nasty blokes. An' then there's an address she said, though both of us not knowin' 'ow to read won't—"_

"_Lord Edward Farquar. 27 Grosvenor Gardens." Hitomi read smoothly, to the astonishment of the other women. Her mother had taught her how to read by the time she was four. She'd practically devoured every book they'd come across when they'd been travelling, so much so that her mother had often plucked volumes out of her fingers after realising that her five year old was rather too young to be studying the works of the Marquis de Sade. _

"'_Ere now, how'd you manage that then?" Henry grinned, "Very posh. You'll go far, you will. With words like that you can marry a bloody Earl."_

_Thereafter, Hitomi could not remember much. They had pushed her towards a poorly-guarded single door to the outside, hiding just out of sight. Henry had simply whispered in her ear: "Find him, that Farky bloke or whatever he calls 'imself. Tell 'im your mother was Erena Kanzaki, then show 'im the necklace, love. He'll take care of you, and if 'e don't then 'e'll answer to me." She glanced sideways toward the door before adding, "Oh, and darlin', 'appy birfday."_

_Henry cracked another toothless grin, somewhat reassuringly. Then, after clearing her throat and taking a sobering breath, without further ado she belted out a shrill, distressed cry of: _

"_GERROF ME YOU SLAG—OOF! ME LEG, ME LEG!" _

_Hitomi had only blinked in confusion as the woman had theatrically thrown herself to the ground, fighting a curiously invisible foe with bewildering enthusiasm. Fortunately, the other ladies joined in shortly afterward, and the enormous ruckus spurred her into action, towards a door that was miraculously unlocked. She burst through it, glancing back long enough only to see Henry, already pinned to the ground by an irate guard, wink at her. _

_And so began her escape. However, it was not clear what she seemed to be running from, nor who she seemed to be running to. At the time she'd had no idea of anything. No idea that Edward Farquar was her father, let alone that she was the result of an illicit love affair between a gypsy and a member of the aristocracy. _

_All she knew was that she no longer had a roof over her head. And as she ran from the shouting and screaming behind her, ran out into the deserted black streets, she'd had no idea where she would go from there, what she would do, how she would live. The weight of the envelope in her pocket was enough to drag her down to depths she'd never known existed. Her mother was dead. The ladies at the poorhouse didn't want her to suffer the same fate, but a life on the streets would surely see her back there soon enough._

_There was no hope._

_Thunder crashed in the air around her, lightning streaking through the sky as the rain fell in torrents, coating the streets in shimmering darkness. There was no moon that night, or at least she never saw it. The very essence of light had vanished from her little life, and—_

"Happy Birthday!"

A chorus of bewilderingly cheery voices cut through Hitomi's melancholic reverie like a sharpened blade. She opened the kitchen door fully to reveal ten beaming faces looking up at her from the large wooden work table, hands and arms and various utensils gesturing to a small cake resting there with one enormous candle stuck in its soft centre. The house staff had obviously baked it that morning in order to surprise her before breakfast.

Hitomi did her very best to smile. She hated birthdays.

"Oh, everyone this is..."

_Entirely unnecessary._

"...wonderful." She finished, as enthusiastically as she was able. The staff began clapping as she approached the table, where a knife was laid out so she could cut the cake into slices.

Kate, the Rogers' cook and a mother of sorts to most of the house staff, gave her a generous pat on the back, practically winding her due to the woman's large frame.

"I found a special recipe, love. One that uses fresh strawberries, your favourite!" She grinned, proudly.

Some of Hitomi's reluctance to enjoy herself seeped out at the kind words.

"Thank you, Kate." She said, honestly grateful for the gesture. "But really, you didn't have to—"

"Now, now." The portly cook held a hand up to silence her, "I'll have none of that. We've all noticed how miserable you've been lately, and it was the least we could do, pet." She smiled maternally down at her before turning to the rest of the staff and shouting, "Now to you slaves, who wants the first slice, eh?"

Everyone shouted joyfully. Hitomi smiled in spite of her bad mood. There was seldom such gladness in the household; it was a hard life for a servant. Constantly cleaning, running errands, changing coals, washing, scrubbing – there usually wasn't a minute in the day for such frivolities. Hitomi considered herself extremely lucky to be a governess; she may have been in the Rogers' employ, but she was not remotely expected to do half as much work as Kate and the others. She felt honoured to have brought them these few minutes of delight.

It was simply a pity she could not experience the same happiness. Kate had been spot on; she had been downright miserable of late.

For over a month now, she had felt as if something inside her had slipped away, or perhaps curled up into a tight ball which she alone could not unfurl. Today it was worse than usual, although she attributed that to the fact it was both her twenty-seventh birthday and the twentieth anniversary of her mother's untimely death. It was also, of course, the anniversary of the first time she had met her father. Needless to say, the day did not bring with it much cause for celebration...

_She had found it. By some miracle, she had found it. _

_27 Grosvenor Gardens. _

_She was shivering from the cold and rain in the dimness of mid-afternoon, and she had been searching fruitlessly since the early hours of the morning to find the correct road. She had tried to ask passers-by, but they had assumed her a street urchin and had refused to help. All but one. One, rather portly, woman in early middle age. _

_Hitomi, exhausted, had tugged upon the lady's coat as she and another woman had waited to cross a busy road. The chubby woman had looked down, eyebrows raised in question at the little girl in dirty rags. At first, it seemed she would bat Hitomi's small hand away and shuffle off in the opposite direction. However, their eyes met, overwhelming hopelessness drowning the little girl's gaze. The woman seemed to re-consider. Her friend looked on in horror as she bent down slightly._

"_I, er…" She cleared her throat delicately, "Hello there. Are you… are you quite alright, child?"_

_Hitomi's heart leapt. She had expected the same disdain and haughty superiority of every other toff she had asked. But perhaps this woman would actually listen. Perhaps she would help. She swallowed hard and tried to remember what her mother had taught her about talking to a new acquaintance. Standing up as straight as she could manage, she looked directly into the woman's eyes and said slowly and clearly, in her best accent:_

"_I am awfully sorry to trouble you, Miss, but I am _quite_ lost."_

_The woman blinked. _

_Then smiled gloriously. _

"_Yes, I had rather thought that to be the case, dear." She laughed, glancing up at her friend, who was warily regarding the exchange. The smiling woman simply ignored the other lady's distaste, and took Hitomi's grimy hand without a second thought._

"_How can I help you, darling? Where do you need to go?"_

_Hitomi swallowed, noticing how very small her hand looked inside the older woman's. _

"_G-Grosvenor Gardens." She pronounced the silent 's' as a 'z'._

_The woman smiled again._

"_Ah, grumpy Grosvenor Gardens." She repeated, correcting the young girl's pronunciation. "The most frightfully dull people live there, child, are you sure you want to go?" _

_What a strange thing to ask, Hitomi thought. _

"_Y-Yes please." _

_The woman sighed. "Alright then dear, well you'll be pleased to know that it lies just behind that road there." Hitomi regarded the place where her chubby fingers pointed, nodding that she'd understood. _

_The kind lady watched her for a moment. Then, smiling once more, squeezed Hitomi's hands comfortingly before saying, "I wish you luck with all my heart, child. I hope you find whatever it is you're looking for." She winked before adding, "If it's buried treasure then I should like some, too." _

_Hitomi giggled, causing the older woman to beam at her before nodding her goodbye. And as the two women finally did cross the road, she heard the disapproving one mutter something which made the chubby lady burst into laughter._

"_Oh, Liddy, you really are stark raving mad." _

_Hitomi made a mental note to thank her one day, if she ever had the chance. However, as she stood in front of the enormous black door of number 27, Grosvenor Gardens, all thoughts of thanks fled her mind. Only terror shot through her in seemingly tireless waves. She clutched the envelope so tightly in her pocket that she thought it might rip. Lord Edward Farquar. She had to see Lord Edward Farquar. _

_Her tiny hand reached for the brass knocker. She rapped it three times, nausea swimming through her innards with frightening intensity. Almost immediately the door was opened. An ageing woman appeared momentarily, but before Hitomi could even open her mouth to speak, she heard the words, "No beggars", followed by the sound of the door slamming in her face. She swallowed. Blinked. Then, biting her lip, she simply knocked again._

_The same woman appeared. She tutted impatiently at the familiar sight of the dirty little girl._

"_Be off with you!" She gestured as she would to a misbehaving cat, "Go on, off with you—"_

"_L-Lord Edward F-F-Farquar." _

_Hitomi's interruption caused the woman to trip over her own words slightly._

"_I— Yes, this is Lord Farquar's residence, but that is of no concern to beggars like—"_

_Hope sprung into her heart. She had found Lord Farquar, whoever he was. She removed the envelope from her pocket and showed the address to the house-mistress. _

"_P-Please can I see Lord Edward F—"_

"_Go back to your mother, child! Go back home! Lord Farquar does not welcome beggars!" The old woman shouted again, before slamming the door for a second time. _

"_B-But…" Hitomi objected to nobody in particular. It started to rain again. Fortunately the door frame allowed a degree of shelter. Hugging herself tightly, determined to honour her mother's final wishes, she knocked upon the door again. _

_There was no answer from within. She knocked again. Still, no answer. Passers-by on the street shot her withering glances. Not of pity, but of scorn. As if to say, "how dare you pollute our neighbour's doorstep in such a manner". She knocked and knocked again and again for the next half hour, but nobody answered. _

_She sniffed, not allowing herself to cry. She didn't want to cry. She had no mother to comfort her, no thoughts to raise her spirits. If she started crying now, she would never stop. She knocked for a final time, and when it went, yet again, unanswered, she did the only thing she could think of. She pushed the envelope, her mother's necklace still safe inside, through the letter-box, and waited. _

_She had never felt quite as alone as she did in the minutes that followed. Without any trace of her mother to hold, without any hope, she was alone. She was quite alone. _

_She waited for what seemed like hours on that doorstep. She didn't even know what she was waiting for, but she simply sat, silently watching the rain, and she would sit in that very spot until something happened. Until something changed. _

_And then, finally, something did. _

_The door opened behind her. _

_She scrambled up immediately, more awake and alert than she had been in her entire life, ready to face the angry house-mistress once again. Ready to fight. However, it was not the house-mistress who greeted her this time. _

"_Who are you, child?" _

_A tall, wiry man with a greying mane of sandy-coloured hair towered over her. His eyes were wild, and he had the look of a man who had just seen a ghost. Hitomi blinked wildly._

"_I-I-I… p-please can I see Lord F-F-Farquar?" _

"_How did you get this necklace?" The man ignored her plea, opening one of his hands to reveal her mother's pendant. Hitomi watched it sway in the air._

"_M-My m-m-mother." She stammered, her heart pounding under her ragged dress. The man's eyes widened. Hitomi watched as comprehension seemed to dawn on him. She still had no idea what was going on. "Is Lord F-Farquar—"_

"_Who is your mother? What is her name?" He asked, frenziedly, though it seemed he expected only one answer._

"_E-Erena." Hitomi swallowed, "Erena Kanzaki, Sir, but she…"_

…_is dead. She couldn't quite speak the words aloud. Not yet. _

_The man didn't even appear to be listening, his gaze frantically searching her face, studying her eyes, her nose, her mouth. It was as if he was looking for something. For traces of something left behind on her very skin. Hitomi swallowed. _

"_P-Please can I s-s-speak to Lord—"_

_The man finally came out of his reverie._

"_I am Lord Farquar." He barked, before looking down at the pendant in his hand. "And your mother… your mother is… my…" His eyes caught hers again. They were filled with anger and sadness, neither of which she could fully interpret. _

_Hitomi blinked. Then she smiled, closed her eyes, and released a sigh of relief so profound she felt her energy escape with all the air in her body. She had found him. She had really found him. _

_She fell into unconsciousness, hope blossoming in her weary, broken heart._

"Hitomi, Miss Rogers is asking for you in the dining room."

The governess blinked wildly, turning to the voice. It was Thomas, the head-footman of the household, holding a rather large piece of cake in his hand. He looked slightly bemused at her preoccupied countenance, but his face soon settled into its usual warm lines. Thomas, though he was often reputed to be rather cheeky with the maids, was a compassionate and generous man, and had always looked out for the governess' wellbeing.

"Thank you, Tom. I will attend her immediately." She flashed him a smile before adding, "Any calling cards this morning?" as she walked past, trying to appear disinterested. Of course, she _was_ interested in one, very finely made calling card in particular.

"The Viscount called for Miss Rogers again." Tom said easily, reaching into the breast pocket of his livery to fetch the card she had hoped for. "This time he requested that Miss Rogers attend the Fanel household."

Hitomi tried to mask her surprised reaction, but before she could even pretend to be nonplussed, the footman pulled from his pocket a card she had never seen before.

"And a Mr Williams dropped by as well." Tom continued, taking a generous bite of cake after handing a plain white card with a black inscription to her. "He said he had urgent business with you and would call back immediately." The footman garbled this out over a mouthful of delicious sponge.

Hitomi blinked, slightly taken aback, and peered down at the mysterious calling card. It read as follows:

_~ J.R. Williams ~_

_Solicitor_

"Solicitor?" She mouthed softly, frowning. "But... what the devil would a solicitor want with me?"

Thomas shrugged before handing her the other card. This one, she recognised very well indeed. On the plain ebony background was written only one word in stunning silver calligraphy.

_Fanel_

She sighed, turning the card over in her hands. He had called almost every day for the past three weeks, and each morning Hitomi would descend the stairs for breakfast hoping he had already left his card in the little silver tray in the front hall. Somehow, just to know that he had been there, even if she hadn't seen him, made her insides coil like a rusted bed-spring; a strained, noticeable, painful tightness in her chest.

But, dear Lord, none of that mattered now. A week after the events of the Fanel houseparty, the Viscount had written a letter to Merle, revealing his desire to court her in a proper fashion, but only with the consent of her chaperone and eventually her parents, and providing she did not attend any parties for the period of their courtship. The latter half of this arrangement was unprecedented as far as Hitomi knew, but most probably put in place to ensure no other potential suitors could take Merle's fancy. Even with this strangely binding agreement, Merle had immediately begged Hitomi to supply her blessing, though the debutante needn't have bothered. The governess had waited for this since the night of the masquerade. She had been ready for it.

And yet, at almost the precise moment she had said given her assent, her heart had thudded to a stop. And it was from this moment that she had felt the aforementioned, peculiar emptiness eat its way inside of her; it was from this moment that she had… lost something. She felt melancholic from when she awoke in the morning to when she went to bed at night, her passion and interest in everything she loved disappearing with every day. Even her favourite books could not possess her for a few, blissful moments.

However, there were precisely two exceptions to her apathy, to the dismal weight she had put upon herself. Shall I tell you, dear reader, what, or rather who, they were?

The first exception was, of course, the man who had caused all this. The man with the dark eyes. Depending on the weather, Merle and the Viscount would sit in the front parlour drinking tea together, or go for long strolls in Hyde Park or perhaps down Regent Street. They would discuss dim, menial things like the weather and glove shopping, or sometimes even talk about the Viscount's château in France. And throughout these tedious excursions and discussions, Hitomi would have to sit, stand and stroll, simply watching. Just watching. But even this gave her comfort for reasons she was not willing to explore. Just being near him gave her chills of joy. And the few times she had noticed him glancing at her from beneath his lashes, her heart had leapt with perplexed elation. Indeed, it was in these moments that she felt her heart beating at all. But then he would look away, and it would stop once more.

_It will pass. _She told herself, over and over. _It must pass._

Any exchanges she herself conducted with Van (always in Merle's presence of course) were short and polite. Their conversations were no longer filled with rage or malicious intent, nor were they filled with humour or any kind of real emotion. They were perfectly nice conversations. Perfectly nice.

Perfectly unbearable.

And she could do nothing about it. Sometimes he smiled with her, once he had laughed at something she'd said about being awful at French. The sound had made her ache. However, these moments were just exceptions in conversations carried out with businesslike efficiency. And that was the way it had to be.

When she caught herself watching his eyes, or the movement of his lips, or remembering the way they had kissed so passionately on the night of the masquerade, she allowed herself to indulge in the images for one, unbearable second...

"_...don't make me want it." He whispered, desperately, his mouth achingly close to hers, "For god's sake, don't make me want you more than I already do, because it… sweetheart, we can never do this." _

...and then she erased them.

_It will pass. _

The second of the exceptions (you were promised two), was none other than Charles Aston, or rather, Hitomi's continued correspondence with the introverted heir. Rarely in the physical sense, unless they passed each other by chance on the street during one of Merle's outings with the Viscount. In these cases, they would merely nod and smile to each other before going their separate ways. No, it was not physical, but rather a correspondence of words, letters to be precise, sent several times a week.

At first it had surprised her. Indeed, the first letter she received had been two days after the Fanel houseparty, wishing her well and subtly apologising on behalf of his dark-haired friend for not doing the same, or so she inferred. Following this, as was the norm, she sent a short letter back wishing him good health and so on and so forth, only to receive another letter a day or so later. As time had gone on, their communication had eased away from the social parameters of thanks and good health, progressing instead to questions of philosophy and literature, not to mention the personal thoughts and feelings of both parties. His last letter especially had been unexpectedly honest and open about his past:

"… _I've mentioned Lily before, have I not? She was my fiancée several years ago, a childhood sweetheart of sorts, though my love for her was never childlike, nor was it sweet. It was a heavy, painful, wonderful thing. The sort which moves like water, flowing prettily on the surface yet never stopping, never breathing underneath, not for a second. I was consumed by my love for her, and thusly I was consumed by grief upon her untimely death. Since that time I have found no real comfort, nor had I reason to seek it."_

What he then went on to say was the most unexpected of all things.

"_The ironic part of this is that, in actuality, this comfort I have hidden from has sought me out, regardless of my intent. Excuse my directness, Miss Kanzaki, but your words have given me a sense of peace and contentment I have not felt since Lily died. Although I very much doubt my paltry thoughts and literary opinions have offered you any similar thing, I am grateful of our correspondence. I am grateful of our friendship. _

_I would very much like to continue these conversations over tea._

_Yours ever,_

_Chid"_

Needless to say, she had not yet replied. The abruptly-ended letter had only arrived the previous afternoon, and she had read and re-read it four times before finally accepting that Charles Aston, heir to a dukedom, was inviting her to tea. Of course she could not accept, that would be highly improper, but the very fact he was asking her was… well, it made her stomach do a little flip. To summarise, Hitomi Kanzaki was both utterly confused and utterly flattered. Moreover, she was utterly terrified. What if the viscount had put Chid up to this as a sort of… joke? She didn't even want to think about it.

She said her goodbyes to the staff and to Thomas, before making her way from the kitchen, down the long corridor leading to the front of the house. Upon reaching the dining room, she saw Merle was already seated, picking at a plate of kippers. She looked up as soon as Hitomi entered.

"Oh Hitomi! Has he called today?" She bounced up out of her chair, her red ringlets swaying every which-way. Hitomi went to the side-board, loading her plate up with eggs and bacon. She'd found herself eating more and more lately as a sort of… comfort, asking for seconds at lunch and dinner, taking two cakes instead of one at teatime. Unfortunately, it hadn't made a difference to any part of her lanky frame. She looked down at her bosom, heaving rather noticeably above the neckline of the only dress she had left that would fit over her chest.

Well, apparently it _had _made a difference to one, or rather two, body parts. How embarrassing.

"Hitomi? Has—"

"Yes, he's called. I believe he expects us over there later this morning."

"_There_?" Merle repeated, perplexed. "You mean... you mean at his _house_?"

"Indeed." Hitomi said softly, before taking a seat at one end of the long table. She glanced up at the debutante, who was already grinning from ear to ear, clapping her hands gleefully and jumping up and down on the spot. It was moments like these that very much betrayed her young age.

"Oh! Oh my!" Merle sang, before unexpectedly standing very still, her smile dropping somewhat.

"Wait... what if he intends to speak to me alone?" She spoke in an excited whisper. "What if..." She approached the governess, "What if he intends to _propose_?"

Hitomi's fork dropped with a clatter on the fine china plate.

"That is _quite_ enough, Merle." She said, brusquely, standing up. "Ladies do not show such volatile emotions at the breakfast table."

The debutante blinked, taken aback.

They shared a pointed glance before Hitomi had the good sense to end the conversation.

"Go and ready yourself. We're leaving in half an hour."

Merle stood still for one moment more before turning her pointed nose in the air and harrumphing, sidling angrily out of the room like the petulant child she was. Hitomi heard a vehement whisper from the girl as she exited.

"I wouldn't expect _you_ to understand."

The governess did her best not take that particular verbal arrow to heart. She sat down once more, picking up her fork, no longer hungry.

"Happy Birthday to me." She mumbled to the bacon and scrambled eggs lying untouched on the plate.

Her thoughts wandered again.

_The first thing she realised when she awoke was that she was in a bed. A big, wonderfully comfortable feather bed, the likes of which she had never lay upon before. Next, was that she was dressed in an unfamiliar nightgown, and finally, that she had no idea where she was. Who she was. Lord Farquar was sitting on a chair nearby, her mother's pendant in his palm, staring at it as if it might spontaneously combust. As if it would disappear at any moment. He turned to her when she awoke, his gaze empty and confused. _

"…_Where is Erena?" He asked, slowly. Hitomi could still not comprehend the pain in his eyes. She swallowed the dryness in her mouth._

"_S-She… She's d-d-d… d-d…" _

_The words refused to fall. She could only shake her head at the question in Lord Farquar's gaze. He turned away. Silence thundered through the room for several minutes. He only stared at the necklace in his hands, his face pale and sombre as the clouds hanging ominously out of view._

"_I never told her…" He began, quite suddenly._

_But he trailed off. He did not finish. _

_And then the air around them seemed to snap. In an instant, inside a fraction of a second, something changed within him. Something frighteningly delicate broke in his very soul. Hitomi felt a weighty darkness settle in the room. In her own heart. She saw the light in his eyes die. And the next words she heard from him had haunted her to this day. _

"_She's been dead to me for seven years." _

_He turned to her, his gaze harsh. Unforgiving. _

"_I suppose she wanted me to take you in." He stood and approached the bed, his figure imposing and frightening to her, his voice cold and devoid of compassion. She brought the duvet a little closer to her face, a meagre protection from the onslaught of his words. _

"_It seems that she expected me to believe I am your… father." He sneered at the sound of his own words, "Well I may be by blood, but not by name and that's what matters in this life. I suppose she had dozens of bastard brats running around the country. Do you have brothers? Sisters?" He demanded roughly. Hitomi shook her head. He stared at her for a moment afterwards, gauging her honesty. Then, quite suddenly, he turned to leave._

"_So be it then," He called back to her as he approached the door, "You will remain here, but only as a house-maid. You are not my daughter, I am not your father, and we will never speak of this again." He turned to her briefly. "What is your name?"_

_She pulled the duvet away from her mouth._

"_H-Hitomi." She stammered._

_Lord Farquar blinked. Then he shook his head. Without warning, he gave the ceiling a long-suffering glance and muttered:_

"_I thought we'd agreed we wouldn't name her after your mother."_

_The ceiling made no reply. _

_He laughed bitterly before continuing to shout at the inanimate surface. "And I suppose you'll want me to educate her too, you hateful gypsy bluestocking!"_

_Hitomi was slightly terrified he'd gone quite mad. But he seemed to come to his senses almost immediately. _

"_Fine." He muttered, quietly. His gaze fell on Hitomi's tiny form once again. "You will have lessons. Secretly. And do not presume to tell any of the other staff who you are."_

And that had been that. She'd gone back to sleep, knowing she would awake to a new life. She would be a new person. And she would spend the next twenty years of her life trying to become just that. New.

But she had never been able to sit through a storm without crying out for her mother in fear. Every time thunder crashed or lightning shot through the sky, she would re-live the despair she had felt that fateful night, when she had wandered the dark streets of London, alone. Alone and afraid.

"Happy Birthday" the twenty-seven year old governess repeated to herself, pushing her chair back and standing up.

It was going to be a long day.

-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-8-8-8-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-

"If you keep pacing like that you're going to erode the floorboards."

Stefan Philipe Francois de Fanel did not stop pacing. Instead, he chose to completely ignore his friend's plea (a practice not out of the ordinary for the Viscount) and walked a little faster. Chid simply rolled his eyes and looked out of the bay window again.

"Nervous, Fanel?"

"I am _not_ nervous." Van barked, taking a puff off the cigarette dangling from his fingers, "I just hate waiting for women to arrive fashionably sodding late."

"They're not late." Chid muttered, pulling on the chain dangling from inside his coat pocket. A gilded antique pocketwatch fell into his open hand, which he deftly opened. He looked at the time, then closed it again without saying a word and put it back inside his coat. His eyes had barely fallen upon the window again when Van let out a stressed:

"_Well_?"

Chid only smiled slightly.

"I told you already, they're not late." He repeated, before adding "And Miggins will kill you if she finds out you've been smoking in here."

Mrs Miggins was the Fanel's strong-willed housekeeper. The murderous look in her eye upon finding dirt _anywhere_ inside the house (sometimes outside, too) was enough to scare any man halfway to Scotland.

The Viscount threw his arms in the air in a gesture of aggravation, then stubbed his cigarette out on the side of a Ming vase, which he proceeded to throw the butt into. He knew Chid was probably flinching at his blatant disregard for the priceless relic, but he did not care in the slightest. Damn Chid. And while he was at it, damn Mrs Miggins, too.

Today was the day he would throw away his bachelorhood for good. It was the day he would wave goodbye to gambling and womanising and drinking until the early hours of the morning. Well, supposedly. His future wife, the demure Merle Rogers, would undoubtedly assume these things upon their engagement, though from what he saw on a daily basis, married men of the upper classes rarely stayed faithful to their wives, and they certainly didn't stop drinking, smoking or gambling over inheritances, horses and whores. He supposed nothing much would be different about married-life, apart from the dull conversation and the fact he would have to bed and eventually father a child with the aforementioned Miss Rogers, who was practically a child herself. But at least, he thought, he was not limited to her bed alone, and indeed she was not limited to his. Illicit liaisons were the norm for both the husbands and the wives of the _ton_. In fact, he had a certain mistress in mind already.

"Is there a reason you asked the governess to come with the girl today?"

Chid's voice permeated his rapidly meandering thoughts. "Mm?"

"Hitomi." The duke's heir repeated, "Is there a reason her presence was required today when it would have been entirely acceptable to speak to the girl alone?"

"Why, my friend, I'm just being thoughtful, as per usual."

Chid raised a brow.

"Moral support." Van grinned before taking another cigarette out of his pocket, "It's for moral support." He took it between his lips, before adding, "For the girl, of course." He attempted to light it with a match, "I'm not nervous. I don't need moral support. You're only here to amuse the governess while I'm talking to Merle." It felt wrong to use her first name. Chid stood up easily from his chair and sauntered over. He took the unlit cigarette from Van's mouth and threw it neatly into the Ming vase which Van had abused earlier.

"You're going to use-up the whole damned shipment if you keep smoking at this rate."

"Bugger off will you."

"Van." Chid's voice held a sudden gravity.

The dark-eyed Viscount rolled his eyes.

"What's your p—"

"I just want you to be sure."

The words hung, heavy in the air. Van knew exactly what they meant. He turned away, to the drinks cabinet, and poured himself out a snifter of brandy. Chid was asking him whether he was making the right decision. Whether resigning himself to a life with Merle Rogers was what he really wanted. Whether it was what he _had_ to do. He was asking whether there was another way. Another choice.

There wasn't.

"I'm sure." Van took a swig of brandy. It felt like fire. He relished it.

Neither moved for a few moments. Then a warm hand fell upon Van's shoulder, a comfort of sorts, and shook it gently. Was it pity? Empathy? What did it matter.

Both men turned at the sound of somebody knocking on the door.

"Enter." Van downed the last of the brandy. Chid made his way back to the armchair by the window.

A footman came in. He snapped down into a bow before addressing his master.

"Announcing the arrival of Lady Rogers, sir, and a Miss Kanzaki. Shall I bring them in, my Lord?"

"Please."

A few seconds later, the first foot over the threshold of the front parlour was that of Merle Rogers, as was the second. The governess followed close behind.

Van could only swallow at the sight of the latter. She looked particularly beautiful today, her hair having grown long enough now to be pulled back into a simple knot. He tried not to focus on the wisps that still fell rebelliously about her eyes.

"Good morning, Ladies." Chid stood up to greet the women, inducing Van to stop staring at the governess and echo his greeting before they both bowed slightly. Merle giggled. Hitomi merely glanced around the room, her eyes widening when they fell upon Chid before quickly darting back to the floor.

"Good morning, Gentlemen." She said quietly, curtseying, and probably would have encouraged Merle to do the same, had the young girl not already bounded over to Van.

"Oh, my Lord!" The debutante exclaimed, beaming from ear to ear, "I could hardly wait to leave the house when I'd heard you'd requested my presence this morning!" She stuck her hand towards him. The Viscount laughed and took it delicately, raising it to his lips and placing a practiced kiss over her knuckles. His eyes darted up to Merle's, wide and innocent, before surreptitiously glimpsing over to where the governess was standing. He had perfected the art of looking at her without anybody else noticing.

Their gazes met for barely a second. She looked casually to the upholstery of a nearby chaise. But a second was all he had needed. The spark, the shiver, the _joy_ that ran through him would last all day.

God, what was _happening_ to him? He'd never had to _sneak _a glance at anybody. When he wanted something, needed something, he took it, stole it, owned it. He didn't even recognise himself anymore.

"It is always a pleasure to see you, Merle."

He watched as the young girl blushed prettily, before relinquishing her small gloved hand. And as he searched her bright, smiling face for a moment, without warning his mind flashed forward a year, perhaps two, and he wondered whether her face would still be smiling. Whether she would still blush when he took her hand. He wondered, whilst looking at the veritable child in front of him, whether this time next year they would have a screaming child of their own in the nursery upstairs, and whether either of them would want anything to do with it. And, quite unexpectedly, he realised something.

Perhaps this marriage was not only the wrong decision from his point of view, but from hers as well.

His face must have betrayed something of his thoughts, for Merle's smile had lost some of its radiance.

"Are you quite alright, my Lord?"

Of course, the girl would deny having second thoughts of her own if he asked her. And at this late stage, after everything he had given up, was there even any way he could deny her a proposal? Was there any way he could deny his dying father an heir to his legacy?

No. No, there wasn't.

But surely he was entitled to some happiness. To some… recompense.

"…_sweetheart, we can never do this…"_

"My lord?" Merle prompted for the second time.

Van blinked, fixing his charming smile back in place.

"Pardon me, Miss Rogers, but your beauty rather dazzled me for a moment. Shall I call for tea?"

He tried not to wince at the girl's high-pitched titter.

It was going to be a long day.

-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-8-8-8-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-

They made small talk for almost half an hour once the tea had arrived. Van had talked of his mother coming to town in the next week, Merle had talked of an adorable poodle she had seen the previous afternoon in Hyde Park, and Hitomi and Chid… well, Van had been rather taken aback to see that all they had done was talk to _each other_. Something inside him had coiled tightly when she had laughed, the sound soft and lovely, at something the blonde-haired lord had said quietly near her ear. And a hot, swift, jolt of jealousy had speared his gut when, a few seconds afterwards she had looked away, smiled… and blushed.

In moments, his thoughts had fled, the conversation around him had faded into silence, and the only sounds in his head were of her. Of her soft sighs, her pleas to him…

"_Do you want to kiss me?" The pressure of her mouth over his sent his pulse racing._

_His breath caught against hers._

"_You know the answer to that."_

"—and then I said to Hitomi, 'Why, I have never _seen_ such a poodle'—"

"_Then for God's sake… do it. Do it now." _

The words haunted him then, just as they had haunted him for the past three weeks. It was unbearable. In his dreams she would whisper such words against his lips, touch his skin with an innocence so charged with unknown wanting that he would wake up sweating, aroused and furious that he had dreamt again of her. Always of her. He had tried everything he could think of to forget her, recalled the passion he had felt with others, remembered the thrill of having a different woman every night. _Those were the days_, he tried to tell himself. But he didn't believe those words anymore. He had never felt this way about any woman. His body begged for her touch, for release and pleasure and so much more than that… and now…now… watching her laughing, smiling, blushing with another man… it was agonizing. It was… _wrong_. The thought of a man touching her, just like that bastard Hemington had done, made him blind with white hot fury. He felt the beginnings of something similar begin to smoulder in his gut.

He had to do something.

"Van?"

His head snapped to where the voice had come from. Chid was watching him, a look of concern crossing over his features.

_Don't do anything stupid_, it seemed to say.

"I was just suggesting that I take Miss Kanzaki for a stroll in the garden…" He sent another meaningful glance towards the Viscount before turning back to the governess and smiling in a way Van had not seen him do in years. Something was definitely not right. "So perhaps you and Miss Rogers can—"

"That won't be necessary, Aston." Van said, crisply, before he could even think about what he was doing, "I would like to speak to Miss Kanzaki myself if I may."

He felt, rather than saw, Hitomi's gaze fall upon him. Felt the surprise and confusion in her eyes. Her voice echoed around the spacious room.

"Well maybe we could all go for a stroll in the garden togeth—"

"Alone." Van interrupted calmly, before turning to Merle, who's joyful countenance had dimmed somewhat.

"There are things," He started, with a forced yet reassuring half-smile, "that we must discuss."

Merle's grin returned.

Charles Aston's did not.

"Excuse my forwardness, Miss Kanzaki, but might I talk with you in private?" Van addressed her directly for the first time in weeks. He was strangely displeased when she did not seem to fluster at all. He had expected her to play with the folds of her dress in her lap, or perhaps for her eyes to dart around the room nervously. He expected her to blush.

"Of course." She said, looking resolutely back into his eyes.

Several moments of silence passed between them. Van utterly forgot the presence of the other two humans in the room. He utterly forgot what it was he'd even asked her.

"Then," Chid's voice permeated his mind once again, "I shall take Miss Rogers out to view the gardens." He stood, lifting his arm to signal Merle should take it, "Shall we?"

The debutante bounced up out of her chair.

"We shall!" She grinned, taking the proffered arm with untempered glee and total ignorance as to why she was doing so. Thankfully, they left the room without another word, though Van saw Charles look back anxiously as they went out the door, obviously wondering whether leaving was an irrevocable mistake. But leave, they did, and soon there was only silence.

When Van finally turned back, he saw the governess looking out of the window, to the street beyond, where carriages passed every few minutes and passers-by strolled along the pavements, oblivious to what was happening within the lavish townhouses so near. The Viscount studied her face briefly, tried to read her eyes, her thoughts. He could see nothing. His own anxiety was blinding him. Christ, what was he even doing? Why had he called her in here?

_Just say something._

"You look well." He began, casually, "How have you b—"

"I know what it is you're going to ask me." The governess broke in plainly, before he could finish his paltry line of small talk. Her gaze was firmly fixed upon the window. "But you should know that it is entirely unnecessary, and that I give my permission for you to propose to Merle and consequently consent to anything you may wish to propose thereupon."

Van blinked. Not entirely what he'd been going to ask her but good enough.

"Well…" He began, fairly taken aback. "That is—"

"I have something else to say." She said over him, abruptly. His eyes darted to her hands, to her fingers clasping the fabric of her dress in a way he recognised. She was nervous now. A sense of foreboding settled in the pit of his stomach.

_Don't go to her_, a voice in his head commanded. _Don't go near her. Don't comfort her. Don't touch her._

Avoiding his gaze resolutely, she continued. "Until the wedding…" she paused, "_After_ the wedding… I've been thinking, and I… I think it best that I leave the Rogers' employ."

The words, undisguised, bare, struck him without warning.

"I know what is expected of me, but I hope you understand why I cannot stay on in your household as Merle's ladies maid, I…" She faltered, but was seemingly desperate to finish. Finally, she looked to him, her eyes determined, her voice hushed. "I… hope you understand why I could not do such a thing."

The words cut him, pierced his gut over and over again, until he could only stand there, eyes wide in shock from what he had just heard. He hadn't… he hadn't expected this. He hadn't expected her to leave.

Their gazes locked.

"Why?" Was all he could manage. His heart thudded heavily.

Hitomi frowned.

"You know why." The words were filled with a silent plea. _Don't make me say it_, they seemed to utter.

Of course he knew why. He knew that if they were in the same house together, day and night for months on end, that something would eventually happen. One of them would break. One of them would refuse to stand it anymore. They may not have talked in three weeks, but the attraction between them was still burning. Unbearably hot and impossible to ignore. As he looked at her now, gazing at him, he could only remember the times he had held her body close, felt the warmth of her skin through nothing but a cotton chemise. His hands physically twitched at the thought of exploring her body fully, of feeling every inch of her. Not being able to speak to her for so long had only made him ache more deeply for her, had made him ache for the taste of her breath, of her lips, of her—

"I will start making arrangements from tomorrow. After everything that's happened I hope you'll agree that this is the best way to say goodbye."

Yet again the words shook him to the core.

"Goodbye?" He found himself repeating. He could barely speak. He didn't understand. "Hitomi, I never intended for you to leave, I—"

"Don't call me that, it's no longer appropriate."

He couldn't help himself, he approached the sofa where she sat, "Hitomi, please—"

"Stop!" She stood up to evade him, walking the other way around the table so they stood opposite each other. The teacups clattered. "Just… stop." She said again, calmer. Clearer. "There's no point in doing this again. I don't know why you asked to see me alone but it was absolutely inappropriate and—"

"I only intended to ask for your _consent_!" He countered defensively, irritation building up behind his eyes like a bad migraine. "I didn't expect you to start going off on one about running away!"

"Running aw—!" She cut herself off with a sound of indignation, "Well if you only wanted my consent then why couldn't you have asked for it in the company of Merle and Charles!"

Van's eyes narrowed at the sound of Aston's first name.

"Because I thought you'd appreciate the privacy. _Christ_, I'm only trying to be a bloody _gentleman_." He gestured to the empty room as if it were an adequate basis for his argument. The line between his brows only furrowed deeper when she guffawed in disbelief. His irritation heightened, his teeth gritted.

"And of course I didn't want to interrupt your little conversation with, what did you call him? _Charles_." He drawled his friend's name, cruelly, attempting to make the governess feel humiliated. "From the way you were blushing at his every other word, I thought it best to leave you to it."

The governess's mouth popped open to form a small "o", before she hesitated, closed it again, and blushed on cue.

"I— That is… that is _none_ of your business, Lord Aston and I are acquaintances and nothing more."

"Then why in God's name are you calling him Charles when we both know you despise first name terms?"

"Because!" She began with confidence, though faltered somewhat. "Because I… he is a gentleman and has shown me great kindness of late."

The Viscount's eyes widened, white hot jealousy beating hard through his blood. He found he could not control the darkening of his gaze. Or of his words.

"Great kindness." He repeated, his voice dry. "How exceedingly generous of him."

Tension wafted through the room. Tight. Hot.

Unable to ignore the sudden hostility exuding from the man opposite her, Hitomi's lips parted once again as if to say something, as if to defend herself. But she appeared utterly lost for words. Eventually she just sighed and brushed down her skirts.

"I don't know why we're discussing this; I'm ringing the bell pull." She took several steps away from the table, swiftly approaching the corner of the room, next to the door, where a thick chord hung from the ceiling, attached to the bells in the kitchen where the servants awaited instruction. "You shouldn't have called me here. I can only hope that we can forget this and—"

Without considering the consequences of his actions, Van strode briskly across the room behind her, catching her wrist as she reached for the bell pull and hauling her back firmly. She made a noise of surprise, but didn't struggle as he set her in front of him effortlessly, so they were face to face. It was only then he fully comprehended what he had done. She stood, barely a nose-length away from him, her body practically running along his; his hand still gripped her wrist, holding it at shoulder level next to them. His senses caught, just barely, the scent of her skin. She was breathing slightly erratically from all but running across the room away from him, and his eyes couldn't help but dart down to her somewhat heaving décolletage. He looked back up to her eyes immediately, but cursed as he felt the inevitable tightness take his body, and heat suffuse his blood. She looked down, away from him.

_It's just like the night of the masquerade_, he realised. The thought made him heat all the more.

Slowly, he let their hands drop but did not let go. Sparks suffused the skin where he touched her.

"Sorry." He breathed. "I just need you to listen for a moment, I—"

"Please let go of me."

"Hitomi—"

Her eyes rose up to hold his. "Let. Go."

He challenged her silently for a moment, but obeyed, surprised to find she did not move back upon his doing so.

"You have thirty seconds." She said, plainly. "Then I'm leaving. Or screaming until somebody comes here. Understood?"

He fought the urge to smile at her practiced 'school mistress' tone.

"Understood." He replied.

He searched her eyes for a sign to start. He found them perfectly blank.

"I…" He began anyway, hesitantly, nervous for the first time in… well, years. He was definitely regretting pulling her so close. His mind was filled with only one instruction: _kiss her. For god's sake kiss her_. He didn't.

"I'm sorry for shouting, I didn't intend to." He paused. "I had only… I had hoped, since the masquerade, that your hatred of me had eased. I had hoped, like a fool, that you'd forgiven me for everything." His hands twitched at his sides, desperate to run the length of her arms, tuck the stray wisps of hair behind her ears. "But if you haven't," He continued, noticing her eyes soften under his gaze, "Then I can only apologise once more for everything that's happened between us, for every time I have wronged you, and for every time I have wronged Merle. She is lucky to have such a loyal and caring companion."

Hitomi watched him, her gaze exploring his face. When she seemingly realised he was being sincere, she exhaled unsteadily before looking away again, and saying a quiet, "Thank you."

The movement of her lips, so close, ruined everything. He felt himself lean in fractionally closer to her.

_Kiss her._

"Is that all you have to say?" She asked, still not meeting his gaze.

Perhaps she hoped it wasn't.

"Don't go."

Her eyes came up to meet his at that moment, full of sadness, full of… pain.

"I have no choice."

He watched her, silently.

"There is always a choice, Hitomi."

"No, no there isn't." She batted his feelings aside relentlessly, dodging his probing gaze once more, looking round the room helplessly. "Please don't make me scream for the servants, I really can't do this—"

"Listen." He took her face in his hands gently, but with a desperation he could not hold back. She froze and closed her eyes, clearly refusing to acknowledge his words.

"Don't look at me." She breathed.

He had been thinking about what he was about to say for weeks now. Weeks. Despite the fact he had denied her on the night of the masquerade, he had been… reconsidering. Wondering. They could be together, he thought. They could have something, if it were only in secret. But secret was enough, it had to be. If she stayed on in the house, he could make her his mistress. He could see her every day. And every night. _They could have something_.

"I am looking at you. I've been looking at you every single day for the past three weeks. For months now, I have been looking at you. I can't help myself. Every time I was with Merle, I ached for you to walk with us, sit with us. I ached to look at you. Ached to watch you."

"No—"

"And I know you watched me, too. I know you did."

"I didn't, I—"

"After the night of the masquerade I thought we could put everything behind us. But I can't. I can't…" His thumb caressed her cheek. A frisson of pleasure ran through him when he felt her shiver. "I can't… forget the way you taste. Or the way your skin feels. Or the way… the way you make me feel alive. I can't ignore the fact that I want you more than anything I have ever wanted in my life. Cannot _stand_ the thought of another man touching you or making you blush. I can't stop thinking, _dreaming_ about having you beneath me, pleasuring you until you beg me to stop."

"No—" Her breaths were coming light and fast. His, too, were becoming erratic.

He moved his lips to her ear.

"Just now, you asked me not to make you scream," Sinful images filled his mind, of teasing her, of drinking in each breathless sigh as if it were the sweetest honey.

"But darling… making you scream is all I can think about."

The governess let out an almost imperceptible gasp. Her body swayed slightly into his. Jesus, he was fast losing what little self-restraint he had. What was he doing?

"Stay." He breathed.

Her eyes remained closed.

"I thought we put this behind us."

Van was staring at her lips, desperately trying to quell the hunger inside him.

"Christ, I want you." He said without even meaning to. He felt her body shake once more. His mouth hovered millimetres from hers. "Give me a reason… one reason why we shouldn't _try_."

"After everything you said—"

"Forget what I said. I was wrong. We… We'll have a place in the house just for us. A secret, away from the rest of the world." So close to her lips now. "Merle will never know."

Unfortunately, he did not realise that the last four words he had uttered would have quite such a negative effect upon the Governess. He did not realise, as he closed his eyes to finally kiss her, that hers would open, her mind would awaken from its sensual slumber, and her hand would rise from her side, draw back in the air and—

_SLAP_

He staggered backwards in shock, his right cheek burning red from the violent smack of her hand. Hitomi was breathing heavily, no longer from arousal, but from pure, sheer anger.

"What the _bloody hell_ was that for?"

"You just can't help yourself, can you!" She shouted over him.

"Hitomi—"

"You are finally _five minutes away_ from proposing to my charge, with my permission no less, and then you ask me to be your _mistress_? How many times do I have to tell you that I am not your toy!" She gestured, wildly. "See this, _this_ is _exactly_ why I'm leaving!"

"I am not treating you like a _toy_, I'm treating you like a _damned_ _grown_ _woman_!" He countered, straightening. He was furious, humiliated.

"You're treating me like a _whore_!"

He recoiled as if she had slapped him again. His face darkened.

"A whore? Oh _really_?" He approached her, large, intimidating, "And are you saying that on the night of the masquerade when you were begging me to take you then and there, or just now when you were arching into my body, you didn't react to me like one?"

Her jaw dropped.

"I-I-…"

"Or are you just bitter I denied you that night?" He continued, relentlessly, "Because sweetheart, if I'd really treated you like a whore, if I'd had you, taken you over and over again in the firelight until you'd cried out my name, filled you, fucked you…" His eyes were black. Lethal. "Perhaps then you would not be refusing me."

Hitomi only stared back, silent, stunned. A few seconds later, she found her voice.

"How dare you."

"How dare I? How dare _you_!" He retorted instantly. "Three weeks ago you danced with me, you kissed me, you thanked me for saving your life, not to mention your _dignity_, and now—!" He threw his arms up in the air in a gesture of aggravation, "Now you slap me and call me a cad for telling you I want you to _stay_?"

"I do not owe you anything." She said, her teeth gritted.

"Of course you don't!" He agreed, simply, "You don't owe me anything. Not a damned thing. But I'm putting _myself_ on the line here, and you owe it to _yourself_ to take a bloody _chance_. You owe it to yourself to give into your desires, for _once in your life_!"

The governess only blinked in reaction.

After a moment, the Viscount shook his head almost imperceptibly.

"I'm through with playing games, Hitomi. I'm done." His eyes held her, didn't let her go. "Make. Your. Choice."

A carriage rattled past the window. The clattering of horses hooves broke the taut, deathly silence. Neither spoke. The stare between them was unblinking, unflinching, intense and furious. So fraught with emotion, they knew, because this really was the last chance they had. The decision she made at this moment would be final. It would be the end. He would stop chasing, stop asking, stop wanting. She could end it all.

Or she could take a chance.

The moment tipped…

"I wish you and Merle happiness with all my heart."

…. and vanished.

She left the room without another word.

-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-8-8-8-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-

As Hitomi closed the door behind her, she fought the urge to collapse to the floor. An almost unbearable wave of exhaustion swept over her, as if she had run a hundred miles. The last ten minutes had been as surreal and arduous to her as the first time they had met.

His words stayed with her even now, making her body warm, her belly tighten.

"…_pleasuring you until you beg me to stop…"_

For a few moments she had been lost in his voice, lost in the sensual promises he had whispered to her lips. She'd had no doubt… no doubt that he would act on them. The thought of being so close, so impossibly close to him, was both utterly terrifying and absolutely wonderful. Indescribable. She had never been with a man, never experienced any of the acts he had so willingly described. But she was fascinated by how easily he had conjured images in her mind; images that made her breath catch, that made sensation spear the most intimate parts of her body.

But then he had mentioned Merle, and suddenly the promises had crumbled into dust, the words had rotted away.

_He's going to marry Merle._

Finally, it was happening. It was really happening. He was going to marry Merle.

He was going to kiss her, father children with her. Lie with her. Lie to her. The thought of him touching her caused a dull pain to grip Hitomi's heart. She had made the right choice. She could never be his mistress. She had already withheld the truth from Merle for months now; it was time to stop lying. It was time to stop. It was over. She would leave as soon as possible.

She almost jumped out of her skin when a footman appeared, seemingly from nowhere, and bowed sharply to her. She dipped her head in automatic response, wide eyed.

"Miss Kanzaki, a Mr Williams is waiting for you in the blue parlour. He offers his apologies for seeking you out here, but it appears he has urgent business that cannot wait. Will you follow me please?"

Hitomi's stomach dropped, her heart thudding to a stop. It was the solicitor. She had completely forgotten about the calling card he'd left in the front hall this morning. Icy dread took her veins. Solicitors were notorious for never bringing good news. Not in London, where death, debt and damning gossip were understood to be daily perils. It was only a matter of time before one of them (often all of them) found its way to your doorstep, or in this case, the nearest parlour.

"O-Of course." The governess followed him, racking her brains for who on earth she knew in London that could be in trouble, besides Liddy. She prayed her friend was safe. Perhaps it was Merle's parents. Dear lord, she prayed _everyone_ was safe.

The footman led her down the short corridor to a back parlour, opening the door and gesturing for her to enter. Hitomi curtseyed her thanks before going in.

The first thing she saw, other than the bright blue walls and azure upholstery on all of the furniture, was an enormous stack of papers on the low table in the centre of the room. Behind this towering pile stood a rather short bald man with small eyes, half-moon spectacles and an impressively thick, greying handlebar moustache. The governess, slightly taken aback, could not help but liken this strange man to… well, a mole. It was probably not an inaccurate description of most solicitors, sitting day after day in an office somewhere, burrowed deep in paperwork and books.

He bowed.

"Miss Kanzaki?" He asked once he'd straightened.

Hitomi nodded before curtseying in response.

"Jonathan Richard Williams, at your service. I am sorry to trouble you like this when you are clearly in the middle of a visitation, however I have urgent matters I must discuss with you."

Mr Williams gestured for her to sit down.

Hitomi moved to the chaise longue wordlessly, tucking her skirts under her before she sat, a sense of foreboding gnawing its way into her gut. She stared at the tea-set laid out on the table, watching the steam rising from the spout of the pot.

_This all feels rather surreal._

The solicitor took her silence as a sign to continue, sitting down opposite her before removing a white handkerchief from his pocket and wiping his sweating forehead. "Tea?" He asked, following the line of her gaze, before returning the handkerchief to his its rightful place.

"No, thank you."

He smiled briefly.

"Very well." He cleared his throat. "In that case, may I ask, before we begin, for you to please state the name of your Father?"

"My Father?"

"If you please."

The governess swallowed, wondering what on earth her Father had to do with anything. Normally she wouldn't divulge his name to anybody, but since this solicitor clearly had some business with her, it became apparent that she hadn't a choice.

"Farquar. Lord Edward Farquar."

Mr Williams nodded, "Thank you. It is just a formality that I ask you, however one must be certain of these things."

"What things?"

She watched as the mole-man slowly removed his glasses. His eyes seemed even smaller.

"Miss Kanzaki." His tone betrayed a gravity she had not experienced personally for many years. Twenty years, to be exact.

"I am sorry to be the bearer of such grave news. I am afraid Lord Farquar passed away last night..."

…

Her mind froze. Her breath stopped. She saw the solicitor's mouth moving. Words. He was saying words. And yet she heard nothing. She blinked. Focused.

"…several weeks of suffering. You have my utmost condolences."

"Suffering?" She caught only the one word.

Mr Williams replaced his glasses, as if he were aware of a set pattern to their meeting. Hitomi supposed he must have done this many times before. Indeed, he seemed rather… practiced.

"Yes, my Lady." He nodded. The title bewildered her. "He took ill last month. It was thought to be consumption, though the doctors could do nothing. It took him very quickly. More quickly than most, I heard."

Hitomi swallowed.

"I… see."

She wasn't surprised she hadn't been sent for. Wasn't surprised he hadn't thought of her in his dying moments. Why would he? He hadn't thought of her for the last ten years. He had rarely thought of her when she had lived in his house.

"Well, thank you for coming to tell me." She managed to say after a moment, too stunned to form anything more complicated. "Is there anything… anything I can do?" She knew there would be nothing.

It was at this moment that Mr Williams finally gestured to the pile of papers lying in between them. He lifted a page, covered from top to bottom in the neat scrawl of a practiced calligrapher. He glanced to her.

"I must own that sharing the news of your father's untimely death is not the only reason for the hastiness of my visit today." The sunlight glinted off his glasses. "There is… another pressing matter."

Hitomi's eyes were drawn up to his again. Her mouth went dry. What more was there? What more could there _possibly_ be? Her father was dead. She was alone. Completely alone in the world. Edward Farquar had been a cold man. Indeed, he had been cold and cruel to her for a large portion of the time she had lived in his household; he had refused to discuss any memories of her mother, refused to acknowledge her as his daughter for her entire life. But, regardless of all of this, she was grateful. He had given her a bed, an education. A chance. She owed him everything.

She owed him her life.

And now he was gone, and she had never thanked him. The governess was shocked to feel the sting of tears behind her eyes. She was… deeply saddened.

_What more could there be?_

Mr Williams peered down at the paper in his hands. He cleared his throat again. "After going through Lord Farquar's will and testament," glanced up at her, "several times", peered down again, "I have come to the unmistakable conclusion that he… well, Miss Kanzaki, he has left his entire estate and considerable fortune to his closet living relative." He paused. "You."

He removed his glasses again.

Hitomi blinked. She had barely been listening.

"I beg your pardon?"

The solicitor sighed, anxiety passing over his features.

"Please understand, Miss Kanzaki, this has come as quite a shock to me as well as you. I had no idea Lord Farquar even _had_ a daughter, and I have been his solicitor for over thirty years."

Her eyes narrowed, her mouth opening to form words. Yet she could form none.

"What shocked me more," He saw she was struggling, "was the fact that you are not even illegitimate."

She almost choked.

"There must be some mis—"

Mr Williams read from the page in front of him. "'This hereby decrees the honourable marriage of Miss Erena Kanzaki to Lord Edward Farquar on January 4th, year of our Lord 1815.'" He handed the page to her. Still frozen with shock, she did not think to take it from him. After a moment, he simply put it next to the pile.

"There is a marriage license also." He picked another page off the stack, "Your parents were clearly in a rush to get married. May I ask for your date of birth?"

"I… July 12th 1815."

He nodded, reaching for another piece of paper from the pile, when he stopped abruptly, looking up.

"I say… isn't that today's date?"

Hitomi nodded mutely.

"Well," He smiled kindly, "Ideally I would wish you a happy birthday under less… trying circumstances. Nevertheless, many happy returns."

The governess thanked him, her voice barely more than a whisper.

"So," Mr Williams continued, pushing on, "There is no record of a divorce, therefore you are legitimate, you are a Farquar by blood and by name, and since the latter is all that matters, there is no problem."

A memory flashed through her mind. Her father's voice. Her father's words.

"_It seems that she expected me to believe I am your… father… Well I may be by blood, but not by name and that's what matters in this life."_

She didn't understand. Surely if he had married her mother, he should have known Hitomi wasn't his bastard child. He should have known she was his daughter. His true daughter.

So why had he refused to admit it?

"However."

Mr William's voice drew her thoughts back to reality. Crushing reality.

"Although you will now live in his London home, have access to all his land and estates in the country and, under my supervision, be given an extremely generous allowance each month, there is one… _issue_."

The solicitor pushed his spectacles further up his nose. Hitomi waited for him to continue. She had no idea what was going on. She had no idea who in hell she was. No idea how to go about processing all the information she had been told in the last five minutes. So she just waited.

"Your father's fortune cannot be secured indefinitely. As his solicitor, I can only handle his finances for the next six months. Not a day more." He attempted to gauge her reaction. She sat motionless. "Miss Kanzaki, if you are not married within these six months, Lord Farquar's estates, and his money, will be passed over to the nearest _male_ relative. You will no longer be supported. Do you understand me?"

The governess only stared at the pile of papers.

"Live… in his house?" She muttered.

Mr Williams sighed helplessly.

"… Indeed."

"Twenty Seven Grosvenor Gardens."

"Indeed."

She only shook her head. The thought of going back to that house… the thought of _running_ that house after she had practically been a servant there for ten years.

"I don't want it." She said, after a few moments of silence. "I don't want any of it, I never… I never asked for this."

Mr Williams gave her what could only be classed as a look of the utmost pity.

"It is rare to see somebody so upset by the thought of an inheritance." He said, sitting forward slightly. "But please do not despair. I will make all the arrangements as far as I am able. I will do my best to help you in any way I can." He smiled kindly again before adding, "Lady Farquar."

Hitomi shook her head again.

"No."

Her father was dead.

"It's going to be fine—"

She had inherited a fortune.

"_No_." She stood up. Too fast. Her head spun.

"Lady Farquar, please sit d—"

"You are mistaken, sir, I am not who you think I am, there is a mistake—"

The world began to fade to deathly black.

"Miss—"

"Somebody has made a mistake!"

"Madam, you look quite ill, please—"

"I can't— I'm not… I'm not…"

She crumpled to the floor. Felt her head hit something hard. The table.

The papers, those damning papers, fluttered around her, branding her as she fell into unconscious bliss.

-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-8-8-8-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-

She dreamt of being held. Of strong arms lifting her, holding her tightly. She felt so safe in those arms. But, too soon perhaps, that dream had melted away. The arms had faded. There was only darkness. Darkness for hours. And then… then her father's voice.

"_You are not my daughter and I am not your father and we will never speak of this again."_

Her eyes shot open.

Still, there was darkness. Darkness and moonlight.

She was in an enormous bed.

_Déja vu._

The right side of her head throbbed.

She looked down the length of her body, tucked up in the coverlet. This wasn't her bed. Was that somebody's arm draped over her leg?

Before her thoughts could gather, sleep stole over her senses once more, and she surrendered to its black embrace.

Soon another voice came. A voice she knew. A voice which often crept into her dreams. And yet, words which she did not remember.

_The sky is dark tonight, it seems. And yet the air is full of stars. I can feel them upon my skin, like drops of rain._

These words… they sounded like something from a fairytale. But they were real. Somebody was speaking to her as she lay on that unfamiliar bed. She just… she just couldn't open her eyes.

_One star, I see, is shining brighter than the others. One star burns fiercer on my flesh. Gaea._

The voice was soft, as if it were reading her a lullaby.

_I see her, and yet she is invisible to my eyes. Gaea; a world amidst the stars. And what might wait for me upon her? Perhaps fate's fingertips will pluck me from my sleep and lift me to her shadowed shores. _

Van?

_Am I to meet my love upon that land? Does she wait for me there? A goddess of wings; a guardian of that mystic moon. _

Such words… such beautiful words. His voice. She tried to search for it in the heady black, tried to turn towards it, to no avail. She was lost to it.

_And when I sleep… when I fall into that abyss, will she fall with me? Will she fall… or will she fade away with the morning, with the stars, with the mist. Will she fade into the sunlight, and blind me to the day?_

_No… I will see her in my dreams. I will feel her creep there. Those angelic footsteps shall possess me through the night. _

_I will find her once more. _

_And I will whisper to her, those falling stars as my witness, that she is my dream. My secret world. My angel._

_My own._

-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-8-8-8-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-

* * *

**Well. There we are.**

**Did you... did you like it?**

**HOW DID I DO? From the bottom of my heart, I hope you enjoyed it and were duly satisfied.**

**Thanks to everybody again for being looooovely. **

**Toodles!**


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